


The Doll House: An HG Investigations Story

by Snapes_Godess



Series: H.G Investigations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Complete, F/M, Horror, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: The first story in the HG Investigations series, The Doll House takes us on an adventure with Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.Draco purchases a property with a violent past and needs an expert to help him clear the evil that possesses it. Enter Hermione Granger, Paranormal Investigator who is more than eager to tackle the famous Doll House.Add dark magic, a naughty ghost and some extracurricular fun in the carriage house and you have a fun, sexy story that just may have you checking under your bed before bed tonight!"Sometimes the past doesn't die. Sometimes it lies in wait for the right opportunity to live again."





	1. The Purchase

**Author's Note:**

> Re-released in honor of Halloween 2019! Previously posted on AFF back in 2010.
> 
> HAS NOT BEEN EDITED, PROOFREAD OR RE-WRITTEN--In its original form from AFF.

As always, this story is AU/AR, if you are searching for canon…well, you prolly shouldn’t be surfing the dramione boards LOL because you certainly aren’t going to find it here!! Forewarning, this story touches on some icky, scary and very touchy subjects….

So, sit back, relax and enjoy!!!!

Draco Malfoy was grinding his teeth in frustration as he stared across the desk at the muggle estate agent. She had to be at least eighty years old, which wouldn’t have been a big deal had she been a witch, but the crotchety old bag wasn’t a witch, she was a muggle and a difficult one at that. She looked like the Queen of England with her perfectly coiffed silver hair and gaudy jewelry but she lacked the personable yet proper demeanor of the monarch. No, this woman made Her Majesty look like that muggle bimbo Paris something or other that was all over the muggle publications. 

“Madam, I’m afraid I don’t understand the problem here,” Draco said as politely as he could manage in light of his irritation. “You listed the property for sale, I have the money, in cash, to purchase it, yet you refuse me?”

“It isn’t that I don’t want to sell you the property, Mr. Malfoy, believe me when I say that I would love to wash my hands of that estate,” the prune faced crone said tightly, her nose in the air higher than any Malfoy ever attempted. “It has been listed in this agency for nearly a century, my grandfather was the original agent who listed it, but I can not, in good conscience sell you that property. Not even to get it off of the books.”

Draco seethed inwardly, he wanted that estate. He had only seen photographs of the exterior, the interior mattered very little to him, he would have it redone anyhow, but it had everything that he was looking for. Settled into the Northern countryside it was wonderfully secluded with miles and miles of land attached to it. Lush, green forests would provide wonderful hunting and a large lake in back would be perfect for fishing. It was far enough from Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor that he wouldn’t have his parents up his nose continuously and yet close enough that his mother wouldn’t have conniptions. Though why it mattered when they could travel by floo or apparition he didn’t know. And best of all it was large enough for a family, if and when he decided to settle down and make one. If only the old hag would sell it to him.

“I still don’t understand, Madam. I told you that I have no issues with the house being gas lit and the old plumbing doesn’t matter either, I fully intend to have the interior extensively renovated,” he persisted. He had inherited his father’s uncanny business sense and charming manners, yet neither were helping him close this deal.

“Let me show you some other properties within your…” The old woman stiffened when Draco held up his hand to stop her offer.

“I appreciate the offer, but I want _that_ property,” he insisted.

“Sir, the truth is that the estate comes with…baggage,” she said tightly her face coloring.

“Baggage? What sort of baggage?” He asked.

“The supernatural sort,” she said tightly. She watched a slow smile creep over the handsome young man’s face and waited, fully prepared for him to scoff, as had all the others.

“Do you mean ghosts?” he asked, his rather mischievous grin making him even more attractive. “Ghosts do not bother me, Madam.” He said. It never failed to amaze him how muggles looked at ghosts as something to be feared, something evil and wrong when to him they were the norm; they roamed the halls of his family’s estate and had guarded the halls of Hogwarts. “If that is your reason for refusing to sell then let me assure you I am not at all bothered by it, I will sign documents releasing you from any responsibility if it will ease your mind.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that, Mr. Malfoy. That house is evil, that is why it remains empty,” she persisted.

“Look, the bottom line is that I want this house. What will it take for you to sell it to me? Do you want more money?” He watched her rheumy eyes light up and knew he had her. “I will pay ten percent more than list.”

“Ten percent?” Her voice quavered and Draco smiled smugly. Greed was a language he spoke fluently. “Alright, Mr. Malfoy, I will sell you the house, for ten percent above list on one condition.”

“What is that?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs, the warm satisfaction of a winning deal washing over him.

“You hire someone to investigate and exorcise the house of it’s…problem,” she said. 

“Done,” he smirked and leaned forward, extending his hand which she shook firmly. 

****

**~ @ ~ **

Draco sat on the sofa of his penthouse London flat and stared at the screen of his laptop. He loved muggle technology, a quirk that drove his father crazy, mainly because every time his father touched an electronic device it wouldn’t function. He couldn’t count how many gadgets his father had fried or hexed over the years. He had finally decided to leave the electronics to Draco, content to watch his son work the gadgets over his shoulder.

He was scrolling through a list of paranormal researchers searching for someone to “clear” the house so he could close on the property. He had wanted badly to use the confundus charm on the old woman, or the imperius so she would just sign the blasted deal and be done with it but the ministry had laws against performing magic on muggles and he didn’t need them breathing down his neck. 

“Charlatans,” he muttered, navigating his way through website after website of people claiming to be able to “exorcise” ghosts and demons. They didn’t need ‘exorcising’, ghosts were harmless and most of the time preferred to be left alone. Hell the ones in Malfoy Manor rarely left the south wing which was rarely used. 

He found a listing of the top rated researchers in the field, he didn’t bother searching through the list, he clicked on the top rated name and sent the information to print, using his wand to accio the document to him from his home office. 

“H.J.G Investigations,” he read. “London address…not too far from the Leaky Cauldron…perfect.”


	2. The Investigator

****

**Chapter Two: The Investigator **

Draco stood in the minuscule lift in the ancient office building next to an elderly man. While that might not seem a strange concept to most, it was made so by the man’s insistent chattering to himself about his missing teeth, which he held in a plastic baggie in front of him. The man was also rather aromatic, and not pleasantly so. The elevator reeked of the unpleasant mixture of the man’s gas and body odor. The man turned to glare at him and Draco arched his brows in surprised confusion.

“Did you fuck my Bess?” The old buzzard growled.

“I beg your pardon?” Draco winced when he realized how much he sounded like his father just then.

“You fucked my Bess and stole my teeth!” The man accused, pointing his finger and stamping his foot. Draco’s forehead furrowed and he took a step back wishing he could use his wand to speed up the lift. Damn the ministry and their bloody sanctions. 

“Sir, I don’t know anyone named Bess and if she is yours I doubt I would be willing to get close enough to do such a thing….and your teeth are in that bag,” Draco said drolly.

“Liar! I saw you…” the man squinted and growled. Draco shook his head, thankful when the bell indicated he had arrived at his intended floor.

“You saw nothing of the sort, you crazy arse,” he said as he stepped towards the door. Since he couldn’t hex the lunatic he satisfied his need for action by pressing every button on the panel as he exited. “Have a nice ride!” He heard the man swearing as the door closed and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he strolled lazily down the hall towards the offices of H.J.G. Investigations.

He knocked lightly on the frosted glass door bearing the name, noting that some of the letters were peeling off as he waited. For someone rated the top in their field they certainly had a crap office.

“Enter,” a disembodied voice called from the other side of the door. He hesitated a moment before turning the knob and stepping inside, feeling foolish for hiring such a person but he wanted the house enough to endure it. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Draco closed the door behind him and stared for a moment at the person behind the desk. He couldn’t see much, just a curtain of slightly frizzy brown curls pooling on the desk as the person scribbled furiously in an open file. Slowly recognition set in and a smug little smile began edging the corners of his mouth upwards. 

“I’ll be damned,” Draco said quietly, “If it isn’t Hermione Granger.” At hearing her full name she lifted her head, tossing her wayward sheet of hair back behind her shoulders.

“Bloody hell…Draco Malfoy,” she snorted, flopping back in the chair and slamming the file on her desk closed. “What in the hell are you doing in my office?”

“_I_ am your eleven o’clock,” he smirked, settling into the rickety chair across from her desk.

“Thestral-shit, Malfoy,” she scoffed. “What are you doing here?”

“You have developed quite a mouth since Hogwarts, Granger,” he said smiling. “And I told you already, I’m your eleven o’clock.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “By the way, did you know that you have a crazy old bum riding up and down the lift with his teeth in a bag?”

“That’s Nevin, he used to be the custodian of this building, he thinks he still is,” she said, frowning at him. “Why would you be my eleven o’clock?”

“Because I need your services,” he said, looking at her as if she had gone mad.

“You obviously know what I do for a living, Malfoy, tell me another one,” she rolled her eyes and jerked open a desk drawer to toss the file folder inside.

“You are a paranormal researcher, an expert in ridding haunted properties of unwelcome spirits, correct?” He asked, looking around her office at the various certificates adorning the wall between the book cases.

“Yes, I help muggles with their ghost problems,” she said, her eyes narrowed “Which you and I both know isn’t really a _problem_ with the ghosts so much as a problem with the muggle _perception_ of ghosts.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that fact. I had counted it all up to charlatans playing on the weak minded when I sought out an expert. I must say that I am completely scandalized to find out that the goody goody Miss Granger is preying on muggles,” he gave her a sly grin and then the devil actually winked at her. “Maybe not scandalized…more like impressed actually.”

“I’m not _preying_ on them. Being a witch allows me to SEE what they can only vaguely sense, it allows me to communicate with the ghosts and persuade them to move on or tone it down so that the homeowners can live in peace,” she was used to defending her job to others, no one understood her choice of profession. “You are capable of the same so I ask again, why are you here?” 

“Because I need to close a deal and unfortunately I can not do it without your help.” It was obvious that he was irritated by such a fact, but she still wasn’t quite sure what was going on. “Are you always so rude to a potential client?”

“No, you’re special,” she quipped with her brow arching and her lips pursing slightly. “Fine, tell me about your problem, Mr. Malfoy, and we will see how I can help you.”

Draco’s lips quirked in amusement and as he stared at the feisty witch across from him. She had been the bane of his existence for most of his childhood. She had been part of the “infamous trio”, one of the chosen ones who brought Voldemort to his knees. She had also been the brightest witch he had ever known. Of course he had pretended to loathe her, to despise her for the benefit of his image and his father, but in truth he had been awed by her from the start. He would never admit it, however.

“I wish to purchase a property that is apparently haunted and the muggle estate agent won’t sign off on the deal unless I hire someone to…exterminate,” he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “I paid the old biddy a substantial amount over list but she still insists.”

“Perhaps she just wants you to offer even more?” Hermione suggested, slightly amused.

“No, I tried that, she insists that it must be done though she suggested that I have a priest exorcise the house, I figure that I would have to have a certain amount of faith in order for that to work,” he shrugged and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his trouser leg.

“Most of the time what is happening in these houses isn’t paranormal at all,” she explained. “A lot of the things that people conclude as a haunting stem from the normal shifting and settling of a house, the rattle of old plumbing and on occasion a pest problem. Very rarely is it an actual ghost.”

“None the less, I want this house and I will do what I must to get it,” he said. “That means hiring you.”

“Why did you decide to hire me? Did you think I’d just sign off since we are…acquainted?” She asked.

“No, I had no idea that it was you, I did a search for paranormal researchers in the United Kingdom and this agency was number one. I wanted the best. I am more than a little shocked to find out that you are the head of this agency,” he said.

“I _am_ this agency, Malfoy,” she shook her head and furrowed her brow as she stared at him. He didn’t look much like the boy she remembered. He looked a lot like his father, though his hair was a bit shorter and he didn’t appear to be in possession of a deadly walking stick. “You could easily go into the property and negotiate with the ghosts, if there are any, yourself; you can see them as well.” 

“But then the muggle hag would know something was up. I need an ‘expert’ which means I need you,” he said simply.

“What is so special about this house?” She asked.

“It’s big, it’s isolated, it has everything I want in a home and best of all, it isn’t Malfoy Manor,” he said tightly. 

“Not interested in living in the family home?” She asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

“No, too many bad memories there,” he answered quietly, honestly. She said nothing, she simply nodded in acknowledgement. She understood. 

“Alright, Malfoy, I’ll look over your house,” she said softly. She couldn’t hate him and that always bothered her. Once she realized that his bad attitude was a result of being an emotionally abused child she had softened towards him. She had made excuses for him with her friends because she knew that he was acting out because of the hurt inside him. He seemed relatively well adjusted as an adult, his eyes were softer and he had smiled often since arriving, perhaps he was finally happy.

“Fantastic,” he reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded contract that he slid across the desk. “I think you will find that offer to be more than generous and the secrecy agreement is standard but given my family and their position in magical and muggle business circles it is necessary.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for the document, slowly scanning the top sheet. She gasped and read over it again and then again just to be certain that she had read it correctly.

“Doll House? You are buying The Doll Estate?” She looked up with wide eyes and saw his confused expression.

“Yes, are you willing to investigate it or whatever it is that you do?” He asked. He saw her lips twitch and she trembled, the contract shaking in her hands. 

“Oh yes, and I will do it for free,” she said sliding the contract back towards him.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head and stared at the giddy witch as she nearly bounced in her seat. 

“Doll house is famous, I’ve always wanted to get inside but the agency holding the property refused, “she said. “I will waive my fee to finally get the opportunity.”

“I won’t argue with you on it, Granger, I’m a businessman and a Malfoy, the more money in my pocket the better in my opinion,” he snorted. “However, your obvious excitement makes me curious…I want to go with you when you investigate.”

“No, I work alone,” she said tersely.

“Because no one could know your true nature, as my nature is much the same you do not need to hide from me. Besides, it’s my house, either you let me go with you or I hire another investigator,” his arched brow irritated her and she let out the most unladylike growl in her frustration.

“Urgh….you are still a spoiled prick,” she ground out between her teeth, her hands balled into tight fists on top of her desk. She wanted inside that house; it had been a dream of hers since she became an investigator. “Fine, but you will stay out of my way and keep your mouth shut!” His slow, knowing smile made her jaws ache as she ground her teeth in response. 

“Excellent, if you will sign the contract,” he crossed out the payment amount and initialed beside it, “and initial here, I can take it back to the harpy at the agency and get the keys.” 

“It’s a huge estate, I want to be able to stay there while I’m investigating,” she said, as she went through the contract page by page, signing and initialing as needed. 

“I’ll clear my schedule for the week and meet you here tomorrow at nine,” he said, snatching the contract the second her pen lifted off of the paper. 

“I swear, Malfoy, if you get in my way I will hex you to eternity,” she snapped at his retreating back as he walked away. His soft chuckle made her want to stamp her foot and scream. “Arsehole.”


	3. Stories and Preparations

****

**CHAPTER THREE: Stories and Preparations**

Draco, as usual, was right on time. Since he couldn’t use magic on a muggle he came armed with a small can of air freshener for Nevin though he wasn’t certain what was worse, the disgusting scents that came from the man or those scents mixed with night blooming jasmine. None the less he endured the malodorous journey on the lift, clutching the bag draped over his shoulder while Nevin accused him this time of stealing his shoes.

He happily left the old lunatic in the lift, wondering if he spent his entire day riding up and down the floors, and made his way to Granger’s office. He didn’t bother knocking, she was expecting him, and opened her door to find her standing in front of a desk littered with small devices.

“Good morning, Granger,” he greeted as he tossed his bag into a chair and approached her desk. “What’s all this business?”

“I see that knocking is beyond your capabilities,” she said. “These are tools of the trade, a digital thermometer for temperature readings, dousing rods, a digital recorder, salt, barrier potions, sand and protective talismans.” 

“Tools of the trade?” He quirked his brow disbelievingly and held up a vial of blue potion.

“Fine, these are _my_ tools of the trade then,” she said as she waved her wand over the items and watched as they disappeared into the open satchel in her chair. “Other investigators go in groups, pairing off with lots of high tech equipment, I don’t need all that.” She said, closing the satchel and setting it on the floor beside another small bag containing her clothes. “Did you get everything arranged?”

“Yes, I have the keys to the property,” he held up a heavy key ring and shook it. “It seems that about thirty years ago the carriage house was remodeled in hopes that it would be a selling point, there is an apartment over the garage. I sent house-elves to get it ready for us.”

“Well then, I suppose we should get started,” she said, giddy excitement racing through her.

“I thought we might go to breakfast, you can fill me in on the house’s history and why you want to get inside so badly,” he said.

“You want to take me out? To a meal?” she asked, slightly amused.

“I’m not asking you on a date, Granger. It’s going to take the elves some time to get things up to standard, plus I’m starving,” he patted his stomach and flashed a rather boyish smile that made her want to respond with a smile of her own. She checked that impulse and slung her bag over her shoulder then tossed small duffel his way. “OOMPH…what the hell, Granger? Do I look like a bell hop to you?”

“It won’t kill you to carry my bag, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” she said as she withdrew a set of keys from her pocket. “I don’t have house elves to do all of my heavy lifting for me.” She led him into the hall and locked the door behind them then glanced down at her watch. “Okay, we need to hurry if we are gonna ride the lift, Nevin is cleaning the upstairs bathroom.”

“I thought you said that he _used_ to be the janitor,” Draco frowned and followed her to the lift, praying that it would be empty when the car arrived.

“He was, his wife passed on and his mind isn’t what it used to be, he doesn’t realize that he no longer works here,” she said, smiling when the empty carriage arrived and they stepped inside.

“So you just let him clean the place? For free? That’s brutal, Granger,” he smirked.

“I don’t own this building; I just lease the office space. Me and the other tenants pay his rent and leave food and cash in his old locker downstairs for him, he isn’t hurting anyone so why make a big deal about it,” she shrugged as they rode the lift down. 

“Maybe you could try putting some soap and deodorant in his locker, or a clean change of clothing. Just a suggestion,” he said as the bell rang and the doors slid open to the first floor.

“You are still a judgmental prick I see,” she said as they crossed the lobby and stepped out into the bright morning sunshine. The air was crisp with the first signs of fall on the breeze and she closed her eyes to breathe deeply before turning to head down the street.

“Not really, I just don’t understand why crazy people have to be filthy as well. Couldn’t they be crazy AND bathe?” He kept pace beside her as they walked along the busy London street. “Where are you taking me?” 

“You said you were hungry and wanted breakfast, well there is a little café around the corner where we can catch some breakfast and talk,” she said. “Right there, see?” She looked both ways and then darted across the street towards a little café with a striped awning and bright red door. 

“Is it decent?” He asked, following close behind her.

“Snob,” she snorted, opening the door and entering the small restaurant with a smile for the elderly man behind the counter. “Hello, Sherman!”

“Ahhh, Ms. Granger! Always a pleasure to see you…and this time you bring a gentleman friend, very good!” The elderly man gave Draco a friendly, knowing smile as he followed Hermione to a booth in the back corner. 

“Not this one, he thinks I’m beneath him,” Hermione snorted as she slid into the red vinyl booth. 

“Oh, surely not! Ms. Granger is a beautiful woman! How could you think such a thing?” Sherman said as he handed them brightly colored menus.

“She seems to think I am still a school boy and shouldn’t make assumptions about things she knows nothing about,” Draco said, snapping open his menu.

“Leopards aren’t known for changing their spots,” she said, staring at the menu for a moment. “I’ll have eggs over easy, fried potatoes and bacon with whole wheat toast and orange juice please.” 

“Ill have the same,” Draco copied, snapping his menu closed and handing it back to Sherman.

“Eating what the peasants eat? No gouda omlette or imported fruit cocktail?” She taunted.

“You know, you are rather rude, Granger. You know nothing about me or who I’ve become in the last decade but are so quick to judge and assume,” he said. 

“Fine, tell me about you, Malfoy,” she sat back and smiled, her hands folded on the table in front of her. She stared straight at him, looking away for only a moment to acknowledge Sherman when he brought their juice.

“Alright, I went to University in the States, studied business and finance, I now run several of the family businesses and have controlling interest in a few others, I am single, living in London and my favorite meal happens to be Chicken McNuggets from the McDonalds around the corner from my flat, I have a collection of toys from the happy meals,” he said, noting the surprised expression on her face at the mention of his fast food preference. 

“I wouldn’t have thought you would even know what a McDonalds was, I’m impressed,” she said. 

“Your turn,” he said, imitating her relaxed pose.

“It’s all public knowledge, like everything else about my life, went to Oxford, was dumped a week before my wedding, dropped out of public life, started my own business and my favorite food are those little White Castle cheeseburgers they have in the states,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t get to indulge in those often.”

“Why did Weasley dump you?” He asked.

“And you call me rude!” She wasn’t really surprised; everyone asked the same thing if they got the chance which was why she had opted not to live a public life in the wizarding world.

“You can’t fault me for being curious, I had figured you would be surrounded by a dozen little ginger knee biters by now,” he said.

“Everyone did, including me,” she said, “But Ron wasn’t ready, we got caught up in the furor of it all, of everyone else’s expectations and never really thought about what we truly wanted. I don’t hold it against him, it was for the best.”

“So now instead of chasing rug-rats you chase ghosts,” he observed.

“It’s a bit more in depth than that,” she chuckled. “Are you really ready for this? Doll House is legend among researchers; it’s not a simple haunting.”

“You mentioned that in your office, you were so excited about the chance to get inside. Why is that?” He asked, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of the bench.

“I can’t believe that you purchased such an expensive property without seeing it,” she said shaking her head. “Or at least researching it.”

“I knew that I was going to have to do renovations on such an old house, possibly tear it down and start over. I bought it for the location, for its isolation,” he said.

“Well, that’s exactly why Maxwell Doll loved it so much,” she said as she reached into the satchel. She withdrew a thick file folder and laid it on the table between them. “Maxwell Doll was a wizard, Muggleborn. He attended Durmstrang where he was at the top of the class, played beater on their Quidditch team and to this day has the highest N.E.W.T scores in the school’s history. He was a brilliant wizard but he was also psychotic.” 

Hermione flipped open the file and slid a photograph across the table of a man with dark hair and a thick mustache. Draco looked at the photograph, immediately recoiling at the frightening glint in the man’s eyes.

“That is Maxwell Doll,” she said. “The property you purchased was his family’s estate, by the time he finished his schooling he was the only one left, the sole heir to a fortune. He never married and lived alone without servants.”

“So? A lot of people live alone and without servants, why does that make him so important?” Draco asked, turning the photo face down.

“Not really _important_ so much as _infamous_,” she said. “He was a serial killer and a pedophile.” She slid several old black and white, grainy photos towards him. “He began like any other serial killer in history, abusing and killing small animals from a young age, he kept to himself and according to all of his teachers and fellow students he was ‘a perfectly nice young man’. In 1888 killed his first victim, a fourteen year old prostitute in White Chapel named Polly. The wizarding world suspected that he might be behind the Ripper murders but could never confirm any other than, Polly. For nearly a decade he kidnapped, violated and murdered over seventy five children between the ages of eight and fifteen.”

“Nasty bugger, how did he get by with it for so long?” Draco asked as he looked over the reports Hermione had given him. 

“It was 1888; people weren’t kept track of as closely as they are now. Muggle police methods weren’t as advanced and he was very adept at covering his tracks with magic, plus he had a multi acre, private estate where he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with no one the wiser,” she shrugged.

“So how did it end?” He asked, beginning to think about tearing the house down and starting over. He certainly didn’t want to live in a house where children were raped and murdered.

“In 1898 he made the mistake of taking a little girl from Diagon Alley. She was eleven and shopping for school with her parents when she wandered into Knockturn Alley. He didn’t realize that her father was a high ranking Ministry official who had a locating charm on his child. Within an hour his estate was crawling with aurors,” she said. “They found the little girl in the cellar, naked; she had been tortured but was still alive. Soon after they found him in a secret room, he had hanged himself.”

“Well…fuck, Granger,” Draco raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Oh, I’m not finished,” she said. “When he was found he was surrounded by the remains of a very powerful spell that bound his soul to the house. They also found a mass grave at the edge of the property with the remains of his victims. Most were eventually identified and all of them were laid to rest in proper graves.”

“Alright, so the house has a fucked up history, what’s the deal with it now? Why did that old lady insist on an exorcism?” he asked, moving the file aside as Sherman arrived with their breakfast. He noticed that Hermione waited for the man to leave before continuing with the story, obviously he wasn’t a wizard. 

“I told you that Doll was found after performing a ritual,” she said, liberally salting her breakfast. “Well, he bound himself to the house, as well as his victims. No one has been beyond the foyer and front parlor since that night. Every muggle investigator that has gone in has become incredibly ill the moment they tried to breach the center of the house. Every potential buyer that has stepped foot in that house has been struck by such a debilitating sense of unease that they have walked away from the house….no, they have _run_ away from the house as quickly as possible.”

“So why do you want to go in? What makes you so special?” he asked.

“I am a witch. The wizarding world hasn’t given a damn about this case since it was closed. They like to block out the worst parts of their history and this story has been hidden for a century. I figure that the people who were affected so strongly were muggles, with a warding potion to counteract any negative warding on the house we should be able to move around with ease,” she said, smiling brightly before wrapping her lips around a fork full of eggs. 

“Alright…so we get in, we look around, how do we get rid of … whatever?” he asked. He was fascinated by watching her eat. She ate like a quidditch player, not something he was used to seeing in a woman. 

“Well, I’ll need to figure out what spell he used,” she said around her juice glass as she rifled through the file for a photo of the crime scene that showed the remnants of the ritual. “I have theories, but I need to get a look around, see if I can find a spell book. The house hasn’t been touched; everything is as it was when Doll died.”

“How did it end up in the hands of a muggle estate agent?” 

“It was auctioned off shortly after the incident, purchased by a wizard who then sold it to muggles,” she said. “Gods I can’t wait! I’m so excited!”

“You always were a peculiar witch,” Draco muttered.


	4. On Site

****

**Chapter Four: On Site**

“Anyone ever tell you how clingy you are, Granger?” Draco asked as they apparated onto The Doll Estate. Hermione was hanging onto him like a vine creeping up a wall with her arms tight around his shoulders, her hands fisted in his jacket. She lifted her head and looked around, assuring herself that they had landed safely before releasing him.

“I hate side-along apparation,” she muttered, looking up at the tall structure they had appeared in front of. “This isn’t Doll House.”

“No, this is the carriage house,” he said. “That is the house.” He nudged her shoulder and she turned slowly. On top of a slight, grassy hill stood a large, gray stone house with a wide, sweeping front porch and a round tower jutting from one corner. It was three stories high and covered with ivy that needed to be cut back desperately. The dark clouds overhead seemed to suit the house somehow; in fact she couldn’t imagine it in the daylight. “Bloody thing was a lot better looking in the photographs.”

“They were probably old photos taken after a gardener had tended to the estate so that it would look appealing to buyers,” she said offhandedly. “It looks evil, doesn’t it?”

“What does evil look like?” he asked curiously. “The house looks creepy for certain, I will definitely need to hire extensive groundskeepers, this place is a jungle!”

“Don’t you mean order your servants to do it?” She taunted.

“NO, I’ll have you know that I pay my staff, thank you, even the elves despite the fact that they hoard the money and never spend it on anything,” he snorted.

“I’m impressed,” she said, smiling at him. 

“You should be, Granger,” he replied arrogantly as he shifted the two bags he had slung over his shoulder. “Now, shall we go inside and see what the elves have done with the place?” He walked around to the front of the carriage house and stared at the double wooden doors. “I’ll have to have a larger garage built on the property,” he said, walking towards the single door beside it that would lead him to the flat above. 

“For what purpose?” she asked, following him up the narrow stairwell. 

“For my vehicles what in the hell do you use a garage for?” He peered at her over his shoulder and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Mature.”

“Don’t be a prat, I didn’t think you Malfoy’s held with muggle transportation is all,” she said in irritation. 

“Well maybe you should stop making assumptions about me, Granger. I happen to own a few muggle vehicles along with various modes of wizarding transportation,” he said, shoving open the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs. On the other side he found a small flat. In fact the whole thing would fit INSIDE his penthouse….thrice over. 

“Oh…this is nice,” Hermione said smiling as she shoved past him. “Well hello,” she said cheerfully to the three rather haggard looking house-elves wearing black tunics with a silver M on the front. 

“Hello, Miss Granger,” the one in the middle said, stepping forward and bowing slightly before turning his attention to Draco. “Master, sir, the dwelling is livable now, Sir. It was very bad, Sir. Rotted floors and infested furnishings…we replaced the carpets and the furniture, sir, and we fixed the kitchen and brought lots of food for the Master and the Miss.”

“Thank you, Clouse; you’ve done a fine job. Did you bring my firebolt?” he asked, passing the bags off to the other two servants to put things away. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful, you may go back home, I’ll call if I need you,” Draco said. Without another word his servants popped out of sight and they were alone again. “I’m going to change.”

“Don’t get too comfortable in there, Malfoy, there is only one bedroom,” she called as she lifted the sofa cushion. “And lucky for you your servants brought a pull out sofa!” She heard a muffled curse come in reply and couldn’t help but grin. Goodness it felt good to talk to someone who offered her a bit of a challenge, some excitement. The boys were all about their kids and Quidditch and while they were still her best friends their friendship lacked the verbal fireworks that they had once enjoyed, their teasing and playful bickering set aside for talk of nappies and new quaffle specs.

“You are lucky that my parents instilled in me a certain amount of chivalry that I can’t seem to ignore,” he said as he stepped out of the bedroom, his suit replaced with a pair of relaxed fit denims and a light blue v-neck sweater over a white cotton tee. He had on white trainers and was pushing his sleeves up his forearms. “Let’s have a look around the property before we go into the house,” he said reaching for his firebolt. 

“I’m not getting on that thing with you. I don’t fly, ever,” she said.

“Oh hell, Granger, if we walk we will never see everything,” he rolled his eyes and walked out the door. She followed him down the stairs, not at all abashed about admiring his backside on the way down. “Besides, you weren’t going to be flying. I’m going to be flying; you are going to be riding.”

“I don’t get on a broom with anyone, for any reason…not even my friends. I DON’T FLY EVER!” she said firmly as they stepped out into crisp autumn air. He stared at her for a moment, then sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll be back,” he said just before he popped out of sight. He was gone for several minutes and she was becoming annoyed. She was just about to go back inside when he reappeared on a four wheeled ATV. “Happy now? No flying.”

“Where did you get that?” she asked, catching the helmet he chucked at her.

“My parent’s house, I used to ride it on the estate for fun, get on,” he revved the engine and watched Hermione climb onto the back perching her bottom on the very edge of the seat. Seated as she was she would fly off the moment he took off! “That’s just not going to work, Granger!” 

Draco reached back and grabbed her legs behind her knees, roughly jerking her forward until she was snug against his back, her feet resting just behind his.

“Hey!” she protested but he just tightened his grip on her legs and laughed.

“Oh piss it, Granger, you know you’ve been dying to get me between your legs for ages,” he said. “Now wrap your arms around me and hold on.”

“I think it’s YOU who’s been dreaming of being between my legs, Malfoy,” she muttered, sliding her arms around him and fisting her hands in the front of his jumper. She tried not to notice how good he smelled, like mint and fabric softner but that was impossible once he released the brake and pushed the throttle, sending them careening forward at a ridiculous speed causing her to bury her face in his back. 

Draco winced a bit when her nails bit into his chest through the fabric of his jumper. Funny that she hunted ghosts for a living but held on to him like all the demons in hell were trying to get her over a little ride through the fields. 

“Are you even looking?” He called through the microphone system inside their helmets. He felt her jolt against his back, shocked to hear his voice so close to her ear.

“Can you slow down?” She relaxed a little as he eased the ATV’s speed and loosened her grip on his jumper only slightly. She looked around, at first admiring the beauty of the property, the bright golds and reds of the trees, the still reflective surface of the small pond…and then she saw the gaping hole along the edge of the wood-line. “They never closed it back up!” 

“Closed what?” 

“Over there!” she pointed and Draco turned the ATV, coming up along side the mammoth hole in the ground. 

“What in the hell is this?” he asked, stopping the quad and removing his helmet. 

“This was where he threw the bodies…they exhumed the remains but never closed it back up,” she answered. “Ugh…such a beautiful property with such an ugly history.”

“I’ll make it beautiful again,” he said. “I’ll erase the ugly past.”

“You know what, I believe you,” she said softly, replacing her helmet and wrapping her arms around him again. “Let’s see the rest so that we can go inside.” Being near the open grave was troubling to her, she could feel the magic emanating from it, old and faded but dark none the less. 

They rode around the property for over an hour, circling the house a couple of times to get an idea of the size of the place they were dealing with. Of course both of them knew that outside appearances meant nothing when dealing with a wizard. The house could have looked like a little shanty but on the inside it could be a grand palace. Only going inside would tell them for certain. 

They parked the vehicle inside the carriage house and Hermione gathered up her satchel of supplies while Draco grabbed a snack and the keys. They walked in silence to the house, making their way to the back door. A jiggle of the key in the rusty lock and the door swung open. Hermione reached into her back and passed Draco a bright yellow potion in a little vial. 

“Drink this, it’s a protective potion against negative warding that might make you ill,” she said, tossing back a vial of her own. 

“Taste’s like…butterbeer?” He looked at his empty vial wondering if she slipped him a placebo. 

“Flavoring, I use it in all my potions,” she said. “Wand out.” She had her wand up and he could see the excitement on her face as she crossed the threshold into the house. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he stepped inside, but it wasn’t the small room with a bench, a sink and a row of wooden pegs in the wall between two doors.

“Well, so far it’s disappointing,” he said.

“It’s a mud room, Draco, it isn’t meant to be grand,” she snorted, examining the doors. One had a hasp and a thick lock on it and she assumed that it was the door leading to the cellar. The other probably led into the kitchens.

“What’s a mud room?” he asked, looking around the small room. “What’s that?” He pointed to the old fashioned washing machine with a hand ringer sitting in the corner.

“It’s a washing machine…it washes clothes,” she said, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

“So that’s how they do it!” He sounded as if she had just answered one of the great questions of life and she just had to shake her head. 

“Spoiled arsed prat,” she said, opening the door and stepping into the large, open kitchen. 

“It’s clean!” Draco said in surprise as he ran his finger along the counter. He expected to find a foot of dust on the surfaces. 

“Stasis spell,” she said, looking around. “Is this house wired for electricity?”

“No, the documents say it’s piped for gas but there hasn’t been an inspection on it that I know of…I paid for the property outright so there was no mortgage company involved that required one,” he explained. “The house will be rewired to suit the needs of a wizard…a modern wizard that is.”

“It must be nice to be able to buy whatever you want whenever you want,” she said, moving around the counters and towards the dining room. 

“Oh it is, Granger, its wonderful….why is it getting so cold in here all of a sudden?” he asked, frowning as he pulled his sleeves down.

“Cold spots occur when a spirit is trying to draw energy to manifest….you never noticed it at Hogwarts or your house because the properties are ancient and drafty to begin with. I think we are about to be paid a visit,” Hermione said excitedly.

“By who?” 

“Tha’ would be me,” a heavily accented voice said from behind them. They turned around to find the ghost of a young woman staring at them. “Me name is Polly…wha’ the two of ye doin’ ‘ere?”

“I own this house,” Draco said, noting the ratty gown with the obscenely low cut bodice and tattered hem over her bare feet. “I’m Draco Malfoy and this is Hermione Granger.” 

“Oooo….a new owner…the master won’ like tha’ one lil’ bit!” Polly said. “You be a ‘ansome bloke…if’n I were still kickin I reckon I could gi’ye a good tup fer nuffin.” She said flirtatiously.

“Eww,” Hermione said from beside him under her breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I was the first, I was,” Polly said with a shrug. “Don’ really know why I can’t leave. ‘aven’t left the grounds since he brung me ‘ere. You his?”

“What? Who…Draco? Oh, no, no, no, I am definitely NOT his,” Hermione laughed.   
She nearly choked when the cheeky ghost floated towards, Draco and stared down at him from her elevated position. 

“I fink ‘e wants ye ta be,” the ghost smirked. “’e cant take ‘is eyes off yer bum when yer walkin’.”

“Oh really?” Hermione turned her questioning gaze on Draco who couldn’t help but smirk. 

“It’s a nice bum, Granger, congratulations,” he laughed. “I’m not going to deny it.”

“She won’ let ye stir her ‘oney pot,” Polly taunted. “I don’ fink she likes ye.” 

“Stir her what?” Draco gave the ghost a horrified look.

“My honey pot,” Hermione smirked. “She’s saying that I won’t let you in my pants, Malfoy. She’s probably right.”

“_Probably_ right?” Draco latched on to that little qualifier. “Does that mean that there is a chance that you would let me?” Hermione said nothing, she just flashed a saucy smile over her shoulder and went to the window to look out. 

“Tha’ one is a bit on the frosty side,” Polly said, winking. “No’ me…well, I be a wee bit chilly now bu’ no’ always.” She leaned down and smiled. “Yer a ‘ansome devil, she don’ know wha’ she’s missin’. If’n only I was livin’.” 

The next thing Draco knew the ghost had tugged down the front of her bodice and he was staring at a pair of bare, jiggling nearly transparent breasts attached to a laughing ghost.

“What the…hey!” Draco stammered and averted his eyes while the deranged spector laughed hysterically. 

“What are you yelling about?” Hermione looked back over her shoulder and frowned. “Oh.”

“Oh? _Oh?_ That crazy whore ghost just flashed me her boobs and all you can say is OH?” Draco watched the witch shrug her shoulders and grew irritated.

“Mine are better,” she said smugly.

“Your what?” he asked, trying to ignore the ghost still giggling as she tugged her bodice back into place.

“She’s talkin’ ‘bout her tits,” Polly answered. Draco turned to stare at Hermione in shock for a moment and then let the familiar, sinful grin lift his lips.

“Oh really? Let’s have a look then,” he said, crossing his arms and staring poignantly at her breasts though they were hidden behind the brown corduroy blazer she was wearing. 

“You wish,” she snorted, walking through the dining room entrance and into the large foyer. 

“I don’t believe you. How can I determine if yours are better if I can’t see them to compare?” He followed her, admiring the curve of her bottom hugged in tight denim. Had she always had such a killer ass? Why had he never noticed it? 

“You’ll have to trust me,” she said, still laughing softly. He was enjoying the fact that Granger seemed to have a sense of humor and a rather naughty one at that. She wasn’t at all offended by anything he was saying, in fact she gave as good as she got and he had to say it was refreshing. He hadn’t realized just how boring the women of his set were until he was going head to head with Granger. Was that what was making her suddenly attractive? Was it the fact that she wasn’t a complete scatterbrain that had him thinking she might feel pretty damned good beneath him?

“No…I learned a valuable lesson about trust…I trust nothing that I can’t see,” he said. She turned around and eyed him curiously, a slow smile spreading as she walked towards him stopping when there was only an inch between them. She was petite, the top of her head coming just up to his chin when they were toe to toe. At such close proximity he could smell the citrusy fragrance that clung to her and found himself wondering if she tasted sweet like a nectarine or just a little tart like a lemon drop…maybe both. 

“I won’t flash my breasts to make a point, Malfoy,” she whispered hotly. “But…if you close your eyes and imagine….they're big enough to fill your hands, soft and round…sensitive…responsive…delightful to touch and taste.” 

“Gods damn, Granger,” he hissed, his cock taking a sudden and inconvenient interest in the witch in front of him.

“Now, can we finish looking around?” She asked, a single brow arched high. 

“Hell I don’t know if I can even walk now!” he grumbled when she walked away. Her low, husky laughter suddenly sounded like a sirens call and he found himself following her, his full of images that had never dared formulate before. Carnal images of him and the sassy witch in front of him in a variety of positions. “When did you stop being a prude?”

“I was never a prude, Malfoy, you just never tried to get to know me,” she said honestly. “Instead you picked on me and embarrassed me.” 

“I didn’t know any better,” he said, reaching down to shift the annoying erection now straining against his zipper. 

“Ooo…’ermione, if’n I was you I would fink twice abou’ lettin’ this one have a swive…got a mighty fine lookin’ rod ‘e ‘as!” Polly said, directing Hermione’s gaze to the impressive bulge covered in denim. 

“Very nice, Malfoy…planning to hoist a flag?” She asked. 

“I dunno…you up for a shimmy down the flagpole?” He taunted back.

“Hardly…we’ve got work to do, Malfoy, get your mind out of your pants and back on the reason we’re here,” she said firmly.

“Then how about you NOT describe your breasts and you stop shaking your arse like that when you walk,” he replied. 

“Oi, the two of ye will be swivin’ in no time,” Polly laughed as she floated back and forth across the room.

“What happened to you, Polly?” Draco asked, curious. 

“I was jus’ standin’ on me corner, mindin’ me own when along comes this ‘ansome bloke wit’ a pocket full o’ coin. I couldn’t turn it down, I needed the money so I wen’ wit’ ‘im,” she said. “ ‘e didn’t want ter go into the alley, says he wan’ed a real bed, ga’ me more’n I would make in a month an’ said I could have a big meal an’ a bath. We gots to the edge o’ town an’ “POOF” ‘e makes us dis’pear like dat!” She snapped her fingers ineffectively since the digits couldn’t connect. “ ‘e was a wizard…like’n the two of ye! Only ‘e was a bad’n. ‘e chained me up in the cellar… used words I didn’t know an’ lights shot from the stick…the wand…they ‘it me an’ it ‘urt so bad! Then…a few days go by an’ I feel nuffin…I jus’ cold and watchin’…watchin’ ‘im rut on me body but I was not _in_ it no more.”

“Bloody hell, he was a necrophiliac too!” Draco said in disgust. 

“ ‘e be an evil man, ‘e started bringin’ babies in after tha’,” she said, shaking her head.

“You were but a child yourself, Polly,” Hermione said softly.

“I was never a child,” the ghost said sadly. 

“She is a nasty one, you shouldn’t talk to her,” Hermione and Draco both started at the intrusive little voice behind them. The turned to see another ghost, a small child no more than six hovering nearby. “I’m Claira.”

“Hello, Claira, I’m Hermione and this is Draco, he is the new owner,” Hermione said softly. 

“You shouldn’t talk to Polly. She says dirty, nasty things,” Claira said, her little brow furrowed as she looked over at the other ghost.

“Wot’ do you wan’ you little prude?” Polly taunted.

“It’ll be sundown soon,” the little girls voice was melodic and ethereal. “You know what happens at sundown.” 

“Oi…the little swot is right…you should go,” Polly said, looking out the window nervously. 

“What happens at sundown?” Hermione asked.

“ The Master awakens,” Claira said softly, looking towards the center of the house. “He can’t come out until the sun goes down…you shouldn’t be here. He is going to be very angry.”

“Why can’t he come out when the sun is up, Claira?” Hermione persisted.

“His spell…he made a mistake…he’s bound to the house but only able to move about at night…please, he’s evil, he can…he can DO things….I don’t know why you came or how you got inside but you need to go…NOW!” Hermione and Draco both stumbled backwards as a gust of cold wind slammed into them. Claira did it. “GO!” She did it again and they moved further, involuntarily retracing their steps as the little ghost buffeted them again and again with the force of wind until they were thrown violently from the backdoor, landing on their arses in the dirt while the door slammed closed. 

“Bloody hell!”


	5. Nocturnal Visitation

****

**Chapter Five: Nocturnal Visitation**

Draco tossed and turned on the uncomfortable sofa-bed, wishing that he had taken into consideration that the little flat only had one bedroom before he decided he was going to stay with Granger. He wanted to go home to his penthouse and his plush, pillow topped mattress where he could sleep deeply in comfort but if he left Granger would think he was a coward. It had been a hell of a day and he was tired. It wasn’t every day that a man could claim to have gone into a cursed house, been flashed by a ghost prostitute and then thrown out of his own property on his ass.

He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling…and promptly screamed. The ghost Polly was hovering over his bed staring at him. 

“What in the hell are you doing in here?” He asked, jerking the covers up to his chin when she seemed a little too interesting in his naked torso.

“I snuck out, I did,” she smiled. “ ‘e was busy wit’ the others.”

“Why don’t they leave?” Draco asked, frowning.

“I was the first…’e didn’t bin’ me to the house the way ‘e did them,” she said, moving in a little closer.

“So you can come and go as you please?” 

“Lucky fer you,” she winked. “There is a book…yer little lady might wan’ to see…in the study on the desk.” 

“So…you can come in here any time you want?” Draco sat up, clutching the blanket around him as he stared at the ghost. 

“Well…no’ the bedroom…your witch did somefin to the room…I can’ get in,” she pouted. Obviously Hermione had warded the bedroom against spirits. He grabbed his pillow and stood up. “Where you off to?” Polly asked.

“I’m just going to go tell Hermione about the book,” he said, still clutching his sheet as he made his way to the bedroom door. He opened it slowly and crept inside, carefully making his way across the room to the bed where Hermione slept on her side. 

“What are you doing in here?” she asked tiredly. She had been researching the house and the crimes all evening, she was tired. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said, moving to the other side of the bed and pulling back the quilt to slide in beside her.

“I was…what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” She shouted, flipping over onto her back to stare at him as if he had lost his mind. 

“That whore ghost showed up again, out there…says he didn’t bind her to the house like he did the others. Said there is a book you should see in the study,” he said, shoving his pillow behind his head and getting comfortable. “She also said she can’t get in here. So from now on, we share the bedroom because I am not getting molested by that crazy ghost.”

“Share….no, you are not sleeping in my bed, Draco,” she said.

“Oh calm down, Granger, I’m not after getting in your knickers, I just want to be where it’s safe is all, just go to sleep,” he snapped, rolling over and presenting her with his back.

“But…”

“SLEEP!” 

She frowned at his naked back. She supposed it wasn’t any different than sharing a bed with Ron or Harry….they needed sleep and they were safe in the bedroom. She had warded it securely from all spirits; it had exhausted her to ward every inch of it and would be too difficult to do the entire carriage house. She lay down slowly, still staring at his back. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let him sleep there…they were only going to be there a few days and it wasn’t like he had any interest in her…it should be safe enough.

****

**~ @ ~**

_Her hands were pinned to the mattress beside her head. The sheets had long since been ripped off of the striped surface and was lying somewhere on the floor, not that she cared, her body was covered in sweat, hers combined with the man moving urgently between her thighs. He was growling in her ear, stroking his rather formidable erection through her flesh with skill. She trembled, the heat building in her belly, her orgasm bearing down on her with unstoppable force._

_“Oh…oh…oh yes…” She felt it, those first preliminary tremors that would lead to that delicious tightening of release. “Oh yes...please don’t stop!”_

“DRACO!” Hermione shouted as she sat straight up in the bed. She looked down to find a long, muscular arm draped over her waist and the long, lean body of the man in question lying beside her, slowly lifting his groggy head to give her a grouchy glare.

“You don’t need to shout,” he grumbled. Rolling onto his back and scrubbing his face with his hands. “What’s go your knickers in a twist?”

She couldn’t speak for a moment. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was compactly muscled, built like a swimmer or a long distance runner. He was pale but he didn’t look sickly, his skin had a soft golden glow of health. She licked her lips unconsciously and her eyes trailed lower to the ridged abdomen that had her longing to run her fingernails over it to see if it made the same sound as a washboard. She was fascinated by the golden trail of silky looking hair that began just below his navel and vanished beneath the sheet draped over his hips. A sheet that was decidedly tented.

Her eyes darted up to find him lying with his hands behind his head, watching her with a smug smile on his handsome face.

“You…your….pervert!” She snapped, snatching the sheet up and pulling it to her chin. It was a mistake; she uncovered him and got a peek at the extremely stretched cotton fabric of his boxer briefs. There was no way to pretend that it was just a coincidental fold in the fabric either, she could practically see the pulse throbbing along his length. 

“You were the one staring at me like I was a hot buttered croissant and you were starving, so I’d say you were the pervert,” he drawled, crossing his ankles. He was completely unapologetic about lying there with a raging hard-on, after all, he had _nothing_ to be ashamed of.

“Well I didn’t expect to wake up and find you…randy,” she said, her face reddening as she tried not to stare. It was difficult to do after such an intense dream, especially when she had awakened before she could get off. Perhaps sexual frustration was making her grumpy; it had been quite awhile since she’d had a lover after all.

“Don’t worry about it, Granger, happens every morning,” he chuckled. “Of course the way you were moaning and wriggling around in your sleep may have made it a bit more…eager…than it usually is.”

“I was not!” She said indignantly, reaching out to slap him in the center of his chest.

“Oh, I beg to differ. You were whimpering and wriggling your arse, pushing it back against me….moaning my name,” he smirked. 

“That’s not…wait, why were you up against me to begin with?” She asked, frowning.

“Beats the hell out of me. I was sleeping soundly and next thing I know I’m dreaming that I’ve got you pinned to the bare mattress giving you a good time. Opened my eyes and we were all cuddled up with you grinding your arse into my groin...you have a rather nice arse, Granger,” he winked at her and she felt her cheeks heat and her sex pulse. “So…you were dreaming about me too, eh?” 

“Magical anomaly.” She said, sliding away from him on the bed. “Two magical beings sharing the same small space can connect subconsciously. Doesn’t mean I want to screw you, Malfoy.”

“Really? What about you eyeing my wand like it was a peppermint stick?” He saw her eyes flicker down to his cock again and he flexed his pc muscle causing it to jerk and her eyes to widen.

“Well…it’s there and it’s big and it’s…dancing.” She frowned and shook her head to try and clear the fog her randiness was causing. “None the less, it doesn’t mean I want to play with it.”

“I don’t mind.” He was flirting outrageously and enjoying every minute of it. Her expressions were priceless and he wasn’t entirely jesting, she had grown up to be rather lovely and had a body made for sinful activities. “Care for a morning ride?” 

Again, he was only half kidding. He certainly wouldn’t throw her off should she take him up on the offer of a little morning bounce. He saw the look of interest flash through her eyes and this time his cock twitched on its own. 

“Thanks for the offer, Malfoy, but I don’t think that would be a very good idea, no matter how much fun it might sound,” she said, sliding off of the bed. 

“Well, if you change your mind,” he shrugged and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Guess its back inside that house with the crazy whore ghost and the creepy kid.” 

“I need to find that book Polly told you about and I want to talk to Claira again. I need to find out why she tossed us out at sundown. I need to know what’s going on in that house before I can clear it for you,” she said, digging through the dresser for her clothing. “He was obviously well versed in the dark arts but something must have gone wrong in the spell…we have to find out what that was.”

“Sure, Granger, whatever you say,” Draco said. Hermione grabbed her stack of clothing and turned to see Draco standing with his own clothing in his arms. 

“Look, I’ll share the bedroom with you but I draw the line at showering with you,” she said.

“You’d love every minute of it, Granger, if you could pull the stick out of your arse long enough,” he snorted. 

“A gentleman would let a lady have a shower first,” she said, edging towards the door.

“A gentleman might,” he said, arching one brow. “Shame there isn’t one around.” He darted into the bathroom and slammed the door closed in her face.

“Damn you, Malfoy!” She screamed at the door, stamping her foot. His laughter could be heard over the shower.


	6. Deeper

****

**Chapter Six: Deeper **

Draco watched with narrowed eyes as Hermione chewed the last strip of bacon as if it were the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. He had been eyeing that last piece and fully intended to eat it but she snatched it up first. She likely didn’t even _want_ it, she had just grabbed it to get him back for getting into the shower before her. Vindictive bint. 

“Are you about finished?” he asked in a surly tone. She smiled and sucked the tips of her fingers noisily. 

“Mmmm…delicious,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, trying to ignore the way her pink tongue swiped over her full lower lip. He was especially trying to ignore the way it made him feel.

“We go back inside the house,” she said simply.

“And if another contrary ghost tosses us out on our arses?” 

“We get back up and go inside again,” she said. “But I don’t expect it to be an issue today, we will go in better prepared.” She pushed away from the table and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, returning a few minutes later clutching something in her fist.

“What the hell, Granger?” Draco flinched when she reached out and draped something around his neck. It was a piece of amber, rough and uncut dangling from black chord. 

“Protective amulet,” she said, draping another one around her neck. “It will keep the ghosts a safe distance away from us.”

“Ugly as all hell,” he muttered, turning the stone over in his hand examining the rough edges.

“It isn’t meant to be a fashion statement, it’s meant for protection,” she said.

“Right, protection,” Draco said dropping the stone so that it rested against the center of his chest. “So what if we run into any other nasty little beasties while we are in there? Is this rock going to protect me from them too?”

“I’m taking my satchel today, I have blessed salts and sands as well as various potions and other charmed objects should we need the extra protection,” she said gesturing towards the satchel lying on the counter. “Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’ll protect you.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked softly. She had gone to the counter to check her bag and looked up at him questioningly.

“Why do I do what?” she asked, shoving small books into the bag.

“Why do you call me _Malfoy_ instead of Draco?” He hadn’t realized that it bothered him, but it made him feel as if she were dehumanizing him somehow. As though she sought to keep distance between them by not using his first name.

“I don’t know…maybe for the same reasons you always call me Granger,” she said, averting her eyes so that he couldn’t see her confusion. “I didn’t realize that it bothered you.”

“I didn’t either…but I guess it does,” he said. “Maybe you could try calling me Draco, like everyone else does.”

“Alright, Draco.” His name felt foreign on her tongue. “Perhaps you might try Hermione, I don’t particularly like being called Granger or your old favorite, ‘mudblood’.”

“I haven’t called anyone by that name in years,” he said quietly. She was startled for a moment by the pained look on his face and then she felt the guilt begin to seep in. 

“I’m sorry that I said that, Draco, I can see that you aren’t the same.” She gave him a soft smile and draped her bag over her shoulder.

“I don’t think any of us are,” he said, running his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. He didn’t want to get into a deep discussion of the past or what it did to him, how it changed him. The topic of the dark past they shared made him sick to his stomach and he often wished he could forget though he knew that he never would. “Well, I guess we should get back inside the house and take advantage of the time we have before we get tossed back out.” He stood and turned his back to her for a moment to hide his expression and settle his nerves. He inhaled sharply when he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder for just a brief second before falling away.

“Yes, we should, I want to cover as much of the house as we possibly can before sundown,” she said.

“You’re certain this ugly thing you put around my neck is going to keep that whore ghost off of my bits, right?” he asked, once more examining the chunk of amber.

“I’m certain,” she chuckled. “Don’t worry, Draco, I’ll protect you and your bits.” She gave him a saucy wink and slipped past him. He couldn’t help following her, his eyes firmly locked on the lush curve of her backside snuggled so lovingly into soft, worn denim.

“You know, Hermione, you never did prove to me that your rack was better,” he taunted.

“The way you’ve been staring at them I am more than certain you have come to that conclusion on your own without me having to flash you,” she snickered as she decended the stairs and headed across the lawn towards the house.

“Maybe, but it isn’t nearly as fun,” he said, following her. “I don’t want to go back in there,” he said suddenly. 

“I know, the sense of dread is almost overwhelming isn’t it?” she asked, reaching into her bag and handing him a little phial of potion that he swallowed down without comment. Immediately he felt his discomfort ease as they approached the back door. 

“You don’t think it will always feel like this do you?” he asked wondering if the house was worth the trouble after all.

“No, in my experience once the house has been cleared of the negative influence the _feel_ of the house changes,” she said, reaching for the knob. “Ready?”

“As ready as I am going to get I guess,” he said, squaring his shoulders.

Once inside they easily made their way through the kitchen and dining area, the parlors and a small library. Hermione was scouring for activity and signs of dark magic while Draco was cataloguing the property and mentally making notes of what he would change and what he would preserve. It wasn’t until they approached the stairs that Polly appeared. 

“Ye shouldn’t be ‘ere,” she said the moment she appeared. She was faint, even more transparent than the day before which led Hermione to believe that her energy had been drained somehow.

“I own this house, I belong here,” Draco said as he walked through her, shivering as he passed through.

“But ‘e isn’t goin’ te like it one lit’el bit!”

“I don’t really give a damn what he likes,” Draco said, continuing to climb the stairs with Hermione following behind him. She didn’t say anything, it was important that Draco, as the home owner, exert his power over the property, that he make it clear that the house and land belonged to _him_ now and that he held the authority over it. At the top of the stairs a long corridor opened up and several doors lined either side. 

“I think this first one is the study if I recall the diagram from the agent correctly,” he said, turning into the first room on his right. “Jackpot!” 

The room wasn’t overly large. It boasted a small hearth and large, wide windows that let the light in. The gleaming ebony wood furniture should have been covered in several inches of dust but thanks to magic and a stasis spell it was just as shiny and beautiful as if a house elf had just polished it. The bookcases were loaded with rare magical texts and leather-bound first editions of several classic novels. Near the windows was a desk and lying in the center was a large, cloth covered journal.

“That must be the book Polly spoke of,” Hermione said as she approached the desk, first checking for dangerous spells before she reached out for it and slipped it into her satchel. 

“None of these spell books are particularly dark,” Draco said as he perused the bookshelves. “My father has darker texts in the public library of the manor.”

“Where does he keep his truly dark, dangerous texts?” she asked, sidling up beside him and looking over at the text in his hand.

“Several different places actually,” he snorted. “I don’t know all of his hiding places. I do know where his porn stash is though and in truth that’s all I ever cared about.”

“By all means, what good is dark magic when one can stare at naked witches,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Have you ever seen wizard porn?” He asked, placing the book back on the shelf.

“No, I can’t say in all honesty that pornography of any kind appeals to me,” she said, heading back into the hall. Draco followed her as they peered into bedrooms and bathrooms.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal of muggle porn, but wizard porn is animated and far more….varied,” he said, waggling his brows at her.

“You’re up on muggle technology, Draco, I am sure you’ve looked at porn on the internet or on video,” she laughed.

“Still not as interesting as wizard porn,” he said, briefly cataloging each room thinking he may not have to outfit the guest rooms too much as the furniture was of good quality. Perhaps he would only have to change out bedding and change the color schemes and art. “If you aren’t that into it what do you use?”

“What do I use for what?” She asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“When you’re alone…what do you use for stimulation?” he asked.

“Oi! I already tol’ ye, luv, she aint gonna let ye play in ‘er ‘oney pot,” Polly said, laughingly. 

“Go away,” Draco snapped. 

“I don’t need porn,” Hermione chuckled. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I can call upon past experiences or just fantasize.”

“Ever fantasize about me?” He asked.

“Maybe…I’m sure I did back in school, I had a sick fascination with bad boys, death eaters included,” she said, stepping into a small bathroom. “Don’t follow me, I need to pee,” she said as she closed the door in his face.

“I didn’t need to know that!” he laughed as he leaned against the wall outside the door. Polly gave him a particularly knowing glance and fought back the urge to give her the finger. “So…all death eaters or just me?” he fished.

“Mostly your father and Snape,” she said, the laughter evident in her voice. “I think you were primarily in my classroom daydreams because I was staring at you.”

He listened as the toilet flushed and he heard water running in the sink as she washed her hands. In moments she was opening the door and re-joining him in the corridor. 

“Well, your plumbing seems to be in order,” she said.

“And how’s your plumbing, Gr-Hermione?” he asked with a little smirk.

“None of your business,” she retorted, stepping around him.

“I suppose you use one of those vibrating things,” he taunted, following behind her with his eyes locked on her softly swaying backside.

“Why would I waste money on one of those when I’ve got perfectly good fingers for free?” She glanced back over his shoulder and caught his little smile as he ogled her rear. “Besides, one of the first spells I learned when we began fourth year was the one that makes my wand vibrate.”

“Seriously?” he asked, eyes wide. “You mean the girls were actually…you know….with their wands?”

“Oh yes,” she said as they continued down the hall and turned into another. “Truthfully, wizards are a bit unnecessary when it comes to getting off….I wonder why this door is closed when all the others were open?” 

“Screw the bloody door, why do you think a witch doesn’t need a wizard to get off?” Draco asked, his pride bruised slightly and his interest piqued even more.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, sex is a hell of a lot more interesting with a partner its just not necessary for gratification,” she said. She reached out for the door knob and her brow furrowed when she felt its warmth along with a slow throbbing like a pulse. “How strange…feel this,” she said, reaching for his hand and curling his fingers around the knob. “Do you feel that?”

“Your hands are cold,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowing when he felt the low vibration. “What in the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never come across it before,” she said, brushing his hand away and opening the door. It took a moment for the gas lamps on the wall to flicker to life and illuminate the dark, stale room. Hermione immediately wished for darkness again. It was a small bedroom with simple white furniture and shuttered windows. But the entire surface of the bed, the dresser tops and the shelves lining the walls were covered with dolls. A sea of glassy eyes stared back at them in such an unsettling manner that Hermione actually shuddered.

“My Gods!” Draco gasped. The appalled look on his face required no explanation as they looked around the room. “These dolls are…strange.” He said as he picked one up from the bed. It looked nothing like any of the dolls he had ever seen before. Nothing like the expensive porcelain dolls his mother collected. These dolls had dirty, tattered clothing and ratty hair. Not the prim, perfect clothing and silky coiffures of his mother’s dolls.

“They’re handmade,” Hermione said as she peered closely at the collection. “The clothes….the hair is human….oh my god…” she pressed her fingertips to her lips as the horror of what they were looking at washed over her. “These dolls…they represent his victims…he made them from their hair….from their clothing…”

“Fuck all, Hermione,” Draco curled his nose up as he stared down at the doll in his hand. Suddenly he saw a flash in the glassy stare of the small porcelain face and felt the soft, rhythmic pulsing of a heartbeat against his palm. “I think….I think…this thing is alive!” he released it, watching in morbid fascination as it tumbled as if in slow motion to the ground at his feet. The dull thud sounded like a canon blast when it hit the floor, the cold, inanimate face staring up at him for a moment before a tiny little crack appeared and began to spread down the center of its face. A gust of warm air billowed through the room followed by a brief sensation of joy and the tinkling sound of a child’s laughter. For just a moment they felt euphoric. 

That moment was quickly replaced with dread, fear and anger as a roar of fury shook the house.

“What in the bloody hell….”

“ ‘e’s right angry now!” Polly said as she flew quickly into the room. “Ye need ta go, now!”

“But the sun is still up, he can’t hurt us!” Draco said, turning panicked eyes towards the door. 

“That isn’t necessarily true,” a small voice said. Hermione and Draco turned to find the ghost of Claira. “Materializing during the daylight hours is possible, it simply weakens him. He has more power at night….but he’s angry now…you need to go…NOW.” The little girl’s rather stoic expression turned frightened as the floor beneath their feet vibrated and the overpowering weight of anger and fear began to permeate the air around them.

“I don’t think that we have time to get out,” Hermione said as she rushed to the window and flung the shutters open. “We are much to high to climb out!”

“Damn it, disapparation appears to be impossible in here,” Draco said, looking around the room for an escape.

“He’s close,” Claira said, her transparent visage beginning to waver. Hermione looked at the closed door on the far wall and her eyes narrowed. 

“What’s through there?” she asked.

“Tha’ is jus’ a closet, no way ou’ now!” Polly said, her image beginning to fade as well.

“We aren’t getting out,” Hermione said as she reached for Draco’s hand and dragged him towards the closet. 

“What in the hell are you doing?” Draco asked, glancing back over his shoulder as if fully expecting a demon to materialize in the room at any moment. 

“We are holing up for a bit,” she said, jerking open the closet door and dragging him in behind her. “We can’t get out safely so we are going to hunker down in here, I need light.” 

“Oh fuck it’s getting cold in here,” Draco muttered as he pulled his wand and cast the small wardrobe in soft light. Hermione was kneeling on the floor rifling through her satchel.

“It’s going to get colder,” she said as she drew a large container of salt from her bag and poured it in a heavy line in front of the door. “He’s pulling every bit of energy he can from the house, including the energy of the ghosts living here to try and manifest. This salt will keep him from crossing the closet threshold.” She stood and withdrew her wand quickly an expertly constructing intricate wards on the door and the closet walls. Draco could only watch, completely awed by her skill and the calm way she handled herself under pressure. Her strength and courage had been something he had always secretly admired. 

Watching her withstand the torture inflicted by his deranged aunt had been both horrifying and beautiful at the same time. He had never been more disgusted by something in his life yet also mesmerized by the strength and courage that held her together. Now, under the threat of an unknown enemy, she once again was proving why she had been such a asset for the light during the war. 

“How long are we going to stay locked in here?” he asked.

“Until he exhausts himself and the energy supply,” she said tucking her wand back into her pocket. The door began to shake violently, the knob turning back and forth as if someone were desperately trying to gain entry. 

“Mine!” It sounded like the growl of a demon or some other such monster, it certainly didn’t sound human. The temperature began to plummet dramatically until they could see their breath and they began to shiver.

“How long do you think it will take?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around himself to try and ward off the chill.

“I don’t know. This house is full of negative energy, he has lot’s to feed upon,” she said as she sat down with her back against the wall. “Sit down,” she said, tugging on his trouser leg. 

“We could freeze to death before then,” he groused, sliding to the floor beside her. 

“No we won’t,” she said as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“What the fuck?” he started as she began to tug him down to lie on the floor.

“Don’t get all excited, Draco, we need to stay warm, the easiest way is to share body heat,” she said as she threaded her legs through his and pressed herself all along the length of him until they were lying on their sides, arms and legs entwined and nose to nose.

“What about a warming spell?” He shifted to try and get some space between them but the moment he felt her shivering he stopped and with a sigh tightened his arms around her and held her close. 

“Draco?” She whispered his name. “You’re hard.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve had a witch wriggling all over me, get over it,” he grumped. “So, come here often?”

“Never, I have never seen an entity quite like this,” she said, burrowing closer. She was afraid, something she had never been on an investigation before. “The anger is palpable and so extreme…it’s evil…Voldemort evil.”

“I certainly hope that you are wrong about that,” Draco said softly. “Trust me when I say that his evil went far deeper than you could ever know.” 

Hermione leaned back a little so that she could examine his face in the dim light of the lumos charm coming from the tip of his wand which now leaned against the wall but within quick reach. She felt a tightening in her gut when she looked into his silver eyes and caught a glimpse of some past pain before he suppressed it. She touched his cheek and he flinched for just a second before his face relaxed and his eyes grew heavy. She had forgotten that he had been in the inner circle, closer to the Dark Lord for longer periods of time than she, at his mercy. Who knew what he had suffered at the hands of that lunatic. 

“You…you can’t cast a warming charm….he would just feed off of the energy,” she stammered nervously.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he smirked, trying to lighten the air between them that had suddenly become thick and heavy with something he didn’t quite have a name for. “I think this might be a trick to get into my arms.” Just then they felt a sizzle of dark magic but the full force of it couldn’t touch them. The door shook and rattled in its frame while the roar of anger from outside resounded off the walls. Draco tightened his hold on the witch in his arms, inwardly shuddering as he felt the evil emanating from the house. She was right, it was familiar and sickening and it brought back far too many memories. Memories that he wished would remain buried forever. 

“I never thought I would ever say this, but right now, your arms is the only place I want to be,” she said softly as she buried her face against his chest and braced herself to ride out the storm of evil battering them from the other side of the door.


	7. Afterburn

****

**Chapter 7: Afterburn**

Hermione and Draco spent hours huddled into the back of the dark closet, the air being drained of every little bit of warmth and unable to use their magic as defense lest they feed the evil. As the day turned into evening and the evening turned into night they talked softly, occasionally lapsing into long periods of silence as they listened to the howling of the _beast_ outside. It rattled the door, sometimes with great force and at other times with an eerie softness that sent chills racing down their spines. 

It wasn’t until the moon rose high in the sky and the darkest part of night was upon them that the air began to warm and the house became silent. A soft voice whispered on the other side of the door, the voice of a child saying “_Go now….hurry._ Neither of them needed to be told twice as they leapt apart and to their feet, wands at the ready as they gingerly opened the door and stepped outside.

“All clear,” Draco said as he peered around the room. “Come on, don’t dawdle, we need to get out.” He said, reaching for her hand to drag her along behind him.

“There is something off about these dolls, Draco…” she said, her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, they’re fucking ugly and creepy now let’s go before he comes back!” He stared at the door and pondered the long trek back to the outside door. “We aren’t taking a chance,” he said as his long legs ate up the floor to the window. He jerked on the shutters, it required a lot of strength and several pulls to open them but he found himself staring appalled at a dirt caked window. “How is the entire house spotless except this window?”

“It’s not dirt, Draco,” Hermione said as she came up beside him. “Look closer,” she said, tilting a sconce to shine more light towards the window. 

“Fucking flies!” he said quietly, too horrified to raise his voice any louder. Between the glass and the screen was a thick layer of dead flies, more of the little carcasses littered the window sill and the frame of the sash. “I don’t understand. Why are there so many? Why just this one window?”

“There is a belief among muggles that flies congregate towards evil. It goes back to demonology; the Seraphim Beelzebub was recruited by Satan after his fall to be one of the overseeing chiefs of hell. He learned that he could sway man by using his pride against him. Often he would appear in the form of a fly and was known as “lord of the flies”. This is firmly based in Christianity,” she said, shuddering visibly at the sheer volume of dead flies, inches and inches of them barring the view to outside. “Flies normally do not congregate in such large volumes where there is no dead body or rotting garbage, some sort of food source…yet, in houses believed to be infested by evil you can almost always find them,” she said.

“You know what, it’s disgusting as hell but right now I don’t care,” he said. “Stand aside, Hermione.”

“You can’t use magic against the house, Draco; he will feed on the energy!”

“Alright…it’s MY fucking house, so…” he stepped back, lifted his foot and before Hermione could guess what he was doing he put it through the glass. Shattered glass and a wave of dried out fly remains sounded against the floor, the screen falling into the bushes below.

“Oh my god, Draco!” Hermione’s eyes were round with surprise as he knocked the jagged pieces remaining in the frame to the ground. “Are you hurt?”

“No, come here,” he said grabbing her around the waist and dragging her to him.

“It’s the second story, Draco, we can’t jump and we can’t apparate from the house,” she argued.

“I don’t plan on it, nor do I plan on walking to the door and risk that _thing_ resurfacing with us trapped in another closet,” he said, as he straddled the window ledge and put his head out. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You may not want to hear it, but I learned a lot during my servitude to the Dark Lord, some of it rather useful,” he said, reaching out to wrap a strong arm around her waist and pull her against him. “Its dark magic, Hermione, banned by the ministry but it’s fast and effective and right now I think it is our only safe option.”

‘What are you talking….” She went silent as a pins and needles sensation began in her toes and began working its way up her body at lightning speed. Within seconds she and Draco both were transformed into a crackling grey mist and spiraling through the air from the window to the ground in front of the carriage house. Hermione swayed her stomach churning as she pressed her fist into her abdomen. “Freaking death eater magic…always did make me vomit,” she muttered.

“Sorry, but I didn’t want to take a chance by going back through the house,” he said, wincing a little at the dizzying aftereffects of using dark magic. He had forgotten how much it took out of a wizard. “Worked though,” he said, glancing back to the house sitting across the property. 

“Yeah, it worked…thanks, Draco,” she managed through chattering teeth.

“You’re freezing,” he said, suddenly feeling the icy, bone deep chill himself. “Shock—come inside, we need to warm up.” He unlocked the door and took the stairs two at time. By the time she reached the top Draco was already inside the little flat and she could hear him turning on the shower. She followed the sound, her mind wiped of all thought except that of an unnamed urgency that she didn’t quite understand.

When she stepped inside the bedroom it was to find Draco exiting the bathroom, steam beginning to build in the small room behind him.

“Um..you should get in the shower…the hot water will warm you up and get your blood moving,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he stared at the pale, shaking witch sliding past him into the bathroom. He stared at her as she stood beside the glass shower doors and stared into the steamy interior, her expression blank. He had never seen her in such a state, not even during the war where they had both been witness to horror heaped upon horror. It was unnerving. “Hermione?”

She turned slowly to face him and he could see them, the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes threatening to spill over. He had never been the kind of man who handled women’s tears well. A surprising trait for a Malfoy but one he shared with his father. He understood what she felt, the last several hours had been stressful and more than a little terrifying but it had been impossible to process it at the time. Now that it was over, now that they were safe, the buildup of emotion was excruciating.

“It’s alright, we’re safe here, remember? You made it safe for us here,” he said softly as moved towards her. “Take a shower, get warmed up and then we will get some food in us and figure out what we’re going to do.” He touched her cheek with the tip of his index finger and gave her a small smile praying that his words would hold true.

He let his hand drop back to his side and just as he was turning to leave he felt her fingers wrap around his wrist. He looked down at the slender digits holding on to him and felt her tremble. Slowly he let his eyes travel up to meet hers and suddenly he couldn’t breathe; it was as if something were squeezing his lungs. Her eyes held something he that he never expected to see with her, desire, lust and most surprising of all…need.

The air between them crackled with magic and passion as they combusted. In a split second they closed the space between them and their mouths met with shocking accuracy. It was as if everything in their past was building up to this one moment. It was hot, the passion in the kiss threatening to burn them alive as their lips and tongues met, dueling for dominance in an exchange so perfect that it had to be predestined. Their arms fought for position briefly, ending with Hermione’s hands threaded through his silky hair and Draco’s arms wrapped tightly about her narrow waist. 

He walked her backwards without releasing the kiss and reached for the shower door flinging it open with more force than necessary before he dragged her in with him. It didn’t matter that they were still clothed, the steaming hot water pouring over them, soaking them through as they devoured each others mouth desperately. Small, cold hands slid beneath his jumper and t-shirt, his stomach muscles clenching at the feel of them against his abdomen as she pushed it up impatiently. He pulled away from her and reached behind his head with one hand to grab a handful of the fabric and yank it over his head, tossing it aside with a wet plop on the shower floor tiles. 

Article after article of clothing followed suit, slowly building a sodden pile of unidentifiable wet fabric on the shower floor until they were both naked and panting. Hands roamed slippery skin trying to soothe the sting of hot water against icy cold skin as they warmed. Their bodies became flushed and their shivering evolved into an erotic trembling of barely contained desire. 

Hot water ran over them, trailing over their sensitive skin in little rivulets as lips touched and tongues tussled. Passion flared hot and bright in the small shower stall as old enemies ignited into something different, something more. Need drove them as the fear that had shook them to their cores was pushed aside. Draco groaned as he continued to sample the sweet flavor of her mouth, his hands roaming the smooth, slippery skin of her back. He felt her nails rake lightly across his shoulders and a low, guttural growl rose out of his chest. 

He caressed the smooth curve of her hip and along the dip of her waist on his way to cupping a firm, round breast in his hand. He thumbed the nipple and reveled in the soft whimper she breathed into his mouth as the little bud peaked and strained against his touch. She began to move against him, sliding her breasts against his chest, pressing into his touch as his erection rubbed against her belly. It was almost more than he could take so he wrenched his lips from hers to suck in much needed air.

“No, Please!” She cried, her fingers twisting painfully in his hair. He filled both hands with the lush curves of her bottom and lifted her, pressing her back against the shower wall as he captured one velvety nipple with his lips and sucked hard. “Oh!” Her moan sounded almost pained but the way her legs folded around his hips told him that she was feeling anything BUT pain. He licked, sucked and nibbled at the soft peaks of her breasts, switching back and forth between them as he held her until his knees began to shake with his desire for her.

“Are you warm?” he asked huskily, rubbing his slightly stubbled cheek against the upper swell of one breast.

“Burning up,” she breathed, her nails lightly raking against his scalp.

“Good…hold on to me,” he said, adjusting her in his hold so that he could reach out and turn off the shower then shove the door open. A rush of cool air washed over their wet skin but neither paid any attention as he moved quickly across the floor and into the bedroom. Hermione held on as if her life depended on it, her legs gripping his tightly as he carried her to the bed. He didn’t lay her down on the sheets as she expected. He climbed onto the bed on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight as he pressed her back against the headboard. “Tell me now if you need me to be gentle with you,” he rasped, reaching between them to grip his cock firmly at the base and rub the head between the slippery lips of her vulva. 

“No…I need you, Draco…now,” she breathed, letting her feet fall to the mattress to brace herself. “Now, please,” she begged. 

With one hand braced on the wall behind her and the other holding his erection steady, he flexed his buttocks and penetrated her fast and deep in one sure thrust. A breathy little shriek passed her lips and her eyes widened at the feel of him nestled deep inside her. Their eyes met, their actions finally registering with them both. Hermione reached out and touched his lips gently with her fingertips. 

“Draco,” she whispered softly, his name sounding almost like a query. But it was more of an affirmation, a plea. She touched her lips to his with a gentle kiss of acceptance. He began to move, flexing his hips as he slid his cock through tight, wet flesh that scalded him with pure ecstasy. With every slow drag of his cock through her sensitive core she rewarded him with a pleasured whimper. She had her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, her inner thighs caressing his hips with every thrust. With her feet braced on the mattress she tilted her hips towards him, taking him deeper, so deep that the intensity of it bordered on pain.

“My god, Witch!” He groaned, his brain addled with pleasure as he continued to fuck her, the headboard beginning to slap against the wall. With a feral growl he grabbed her beneath the thighs and lifted, his cock still lodged inside her, turning quickly to the side he laid her out on the bed. With an almost comic impatience he shoved the pillows onto the floor and out of his way as he rose above her. “Spread your legs as wide as you can,” he rasped, his voice raw and hoarse. She brought her knees up and let her thighs fall open, opening herself wide for his possession. He shifted, bracing himself on his knees, his hands firmly planted just above her shoulders. With his head thrown back he began to grind his hips against hers, his cock digging deep while his pubic bone stroked the engorged nubbin of her clit. 

“AHHH!” A shocked, reedy scream spilled from her lips as her hands gripped his waist, her nails biting into the skin. “Oh god…doesn’t stop…please, please, please…” she begged as the coil of tension deep inside her began to tighten. Her entire body trembled and this time they both knew it wasn’t from fear or shock.

“Come on, Granger, I need you to come….come for me,” he commanded softly. Sweat beaded on his back and rolled down his spine as he continued to roll his hips against her, grinding his erection deep. He couldn’t recall the last time he had wanted a woman as much as he wanted the one beneath him. He wanted her pleasure, wanted her to scream his name, to break apart beneath him and take him with her. For once he was the hero, he was the one saving her, saving her from the debilitating fear, the pain and frustration that he knew too well. “You need to come for me, I need to feel that hot little pussy sucking on me before I fill you up, I know you want to, I can feel it…” he bent his arms slightly and ducked his head to take a shimmying nipple between his lips and suck hard, roughly lashing the tip with his tongue. 

He nearly screamed in relief when her legs came around him and her back bowed. The sleek muscles of her vagina convulsed, undulating along his length as heated moisture washed over his length. She trembled and sobbed, riding the wave of her orgasm as he continued to move inside her, drawing it out and extending the pleasure. 

“That’s so fucking good,” he moaned against her breast as his thrusts picked up in both speed and strength. “I’m coming,” he groaned through clenched teeth as the first rough spurts of semen were expelled. Intense pleasure raced along his spine, prickling his skin and clouding his mind as he shook and filled her with his seed. He pushed deep, his hips jerking slightly as he came. It was intense and the sensations seemed to last an eternity before his muscles finally went lax and he collapsed on top of her. 

She kissed his cheek, the side of his neck and the sweaty skin of his shoulder as her hands ran up and down the length of his back. She soothed him, whispering soft nonsense words meant to comfort and calm. He lifted his head and looked down at her flushed face and glassy eyes in wonder.

“Holy shit, Granger,” was all he managed before total darkness carried him under.


	8. Reflection

**Chapter 8: Reflection**

The dusky light of dawn shone through the small window of the carriage house bedroom. Hermione and Draco lay on their stomachs facing each other with only a few inches separating them. They had been awake for a while, lying in silence and staring at each other with their minds racing. Neither of them sure what to think about what had happened between them.

“Well…I never expected to be here.” Hermione said softly. 

“I certainly hadn’t considered it,” he replied. “But I can’t say that I am sorry.” 

“No, I am definitely not sorry.” She smiled, a glint of mischief lighting her eyes. “So, do you always pass out after you’ve had sex? It’s rather rude; you are very heavy and difficult to shove off.”

“I’ll admit, that was a first,” he said. “I think that viper’s tongue of yours must have exhausted me earlier in the day.” He reached over for her and pulled her across the sheets until they were nose to nose. “Jokes aside….it really was amazing to be with you, Hermione. Maybe the best I have ever had.”

“Maybe?” she asked, one brow arched high. “It _was_ the best you have ever had and you know it,” she said. Her face softened and she brought her hand up to caress his cheek. “It was wonderful, Draco, thank you for being there for me, for helping me through the night.”

“It wasn’t exactly a hardship,” he smirked and kissed her lips lightly. “So…what now?”

“We need to release the children, Draco. I don’t think we can cleanse the house of the evil until the children’s souls are free,” she sighed, her face scrunching up in frustration. “The dolls…”

“Ugh…must we talk about those? I’m surprised that they didn’t give me nightmares,” Draco said with an exaggerated shiver.

“I think that they are the vessels, the containers,” she frowned. “When you dropped it and it shattered the soul was released, it was what made him so angry.”

“It had a heartbeat,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I think that we have to destroy them, all of them, their energy feeds him and unless we release them he will continue to siphon off of them,” she said, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand. 

“So you’re saying we are going back inside,” Draco sighed. He rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. 

“We don’t have a choice,” she said. “Besides, I still want to get a look at the cellar where he committed suicide. I want to see if there are any traces of the spell left, it might help us.”

“I should have just walked away when that old biddy first refused to sell me this house,” he groaned.

“No, you were right to want this house, it’s a great house, a great piece of land and we have the chance to make a difference, to give those children peace,” she said. “Besides, if you hadn’t bought the house then we wouldn’t have reconnected.”

“Reconnected? Is that what you call it?” he smirked. “I’d have to agree on that, you turned out to be quite the little firecracker, Granger, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You got me during a vulnerable moment,” she said, rolling towards him and sliding sensuously on top of him. “You have no idea.” She braced her hands on his chest and leaned forward to tickle his lips with the tip of her tongue. He moved to slide his hands from beneath his head only to have her wrap her fingers around his wrists and pin them to bed. “Now, now, Draco, be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself,” she chided.

“So it’s like that is it?” he asked, his brows arched high with surprise. Her soft smirk as she slowly slid backwards and eased onto his cock was probably the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He lifted his hips, pushing his erection deeper into her as she let her weight carry her down until he was seated deep inside her.

“Oh yes, just like that,” she moaned, grinding her hips against him. She reveled in the fullness, the thick length stretching her, pleasing her. She thrilled in the power as she hovered over him, raising and lowering her body, using the tight, silky walls of her sheathe to stroke him, tightening and releasing the muscles to stimulate him further. Back and forth she rocked her hips, sliding him in and out of her while the swollen nubbin of her clit rubbed against him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he groaned, lifting his hips so that he could press deeper into the heaven between her thighs. “You’re killing me, Granger!” She was glorious. The look on her face, that abandoned expression of a woman intent on gaining her own pleasure, was maybe the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She could have cared less about him at that moment. For her he existed only to help her achieve her release and oddly enough, he didn’t care. He wanted her to use him because whatever pleasured her damn sure pleasured him. 

“Well…ughn…it’s a damn fine way to go….oh my….” Her hands tightened around his wrists and she added a little swivel to her hips that had his eyes rolling back in his head. She leaned forward and arched her back, the tight peak of her nipple brushing against his lips. She didn’t have to ask, his lips parted instantly and his tongue curled around the pebbled tip. The pleasured sound that filled the air was guttural and animalistic, certainly nothing like he had heard before. The sounds Hermione made were not the delicate little moans and whimpers that he was accustomed to from other women. Her sounds of pleasure were deep, raw and un-rehearsed. They were real. That realization had his testicles twitching and drawing tighter against his body.

He sucked and licked at the nipple filling his mouth while the witch riding him literally rocked his world. She wasn’t at all ashamed or timid about her need; she took and in the taking gave more than he ever dreamed. She was wild. She was dominant. She was bloody unbelievable and he was lost. 

“Oh yes! Right there, Draco…just like that,” she moaned, her head thrown back as her body began to tremble. He could feel the silken walls of her vagina begin to pulse and flex around him with her impending orgasm. She rode him harder, the swivel on her down stroke just a bit more pronounced. He found himself mesmerized by the steady bouncing of her breasts just before her nails bit into his wrists and broke his concentration. “Oh YES…YES….YES…” She screamed. She actually _screamed_, mouth open, head back, eyes squeezed tight while her voice echoed through the room and in his ears.

The tight fist of her pussy convulsed, clamping tight around him like a vise. Any thoughts he had about holding back were forgotten as his seed was pulled from deep within his balls. He bucked beneath her, bathing her womb with several hot, thick splashes. He felt like he was burning up, sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart raced out of control. He was shaking. He was fucking _shaking_ and it was all because a single witch. A single witch who, given the incoherent spinning of his mind, had just fucked his brains out. And it was glorious. 

Her entire body shuddered over him, a soft, satisfied smile on her lips as she stretched out on top of him. She didn’t bother to roll off, she just stretched her legs out on either side of his as his penis twitched and softened inside her. Curls clung to her face and throat and she exhaled sharply to blow them away, too languid to bother swiping them away with her hand. She folded her hands atop his chest and rested her chin on them, a sleepy smile on her lips.

“Mmmm…now that’s more like it,” she said with a throaty purr. Draco swallowed hard, his hands going to the soft curve of her ass and giving it a squeeze. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his balls aching from the force of his release. “You fuck like that all the time?”

“It’s been awhile.” She licked her lips suggestively and gave her hips a little wiggle. “You were particularly good, Draco. You kept up better than I would have thought.”

“I’m no Weasley, Hermione,” he said smugly. “I can handle anything you can dish out.”

“We’ll see about that…later,” she said. She leaned forward and bussed his lips quickly before pushing her self back up and stretching, her arms high over her head. Draco swore under his breath as her back arched and her beautiful breasts were thrust forward. He had just come so hard he had felt it in his teeth and already he felt his dick twitching in interest. “For now, however, we need to go back to the house.” 

Those words were enough to douse any interest that may have been stirring. He groaned in frustration as she shifted off of him and stood, unabashed in her nudity as she crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Way to kill a potentially epic shag fest!” he called out after her as the door closed. He heard her throaty laughter from behind the door. He found himself smiling as he stretched, moaning with the pleasurable feeling of laxness in his body. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so utterly replete. Had he ever?

“Sorry, Draco, but we have to do the right thing here,” she said as she opened the door wrapped in a towel. He could hear the shower running and see the steam beginning to fill the small room behind her. “What if I promise to make it worth your while?” She let the side of her towel drop and bared one soft breast. The nipple immediately puckered and Draco’s suddenly insatiable libido reared its horny head. He vaulted from the bed, causing the witch to scream and dart into the shower with him chasing after her. 

The house and their purpose were forgotten….for a little while at least.


	9. Making a Plan

****

**Chapter 9: Making a Plan**

Warning: This chapter is rife with disturbing and offensive subject matter.

Draco stood near the cellar doors with the mid-morning sun shining down on him. He didn’t offer to help the witch currently bent over examining the rusted, old fashioned padlock. Helping her would mean that he _had_ to go back inside the blasted house, not to mention that it would require him to stop staring at her backside. He wasn’t sure which disturbed him more at that moment. He still couldn’t believe that he had spent last night and most of the morning shagging the witch he had spent most of his adolescence tormenting. If he had had any inkling that it would be so utterly mind blowing he might have focused his energies elsewhere. It certainly would have made Hogwarts a far more pleasant experience. 

“Aha!” Hermione’s exclamation shocked him out of his daydreams and brought his focus back to her and the blasted locks. She stuck the tip of her wand against the keyhole and the lock began to glow soft amber, slowly turning bright red before the metal melted away into a pile of rust colored ash. Of course she would figure it out. The witch was tenacious and bloody brilliant without a cowardly bone in her body. “Success!” 

“Oh, goody,” Draco said with mocked enthusiasm. Chivalry took over and he nudged her aside to pull open the heavy wooden doors. A cloud of dust rose up that had them both coughing and fanning the air in front of their faces as they waited for it to clear. 

“I think that the reason he was able to manifest so strongly the other day was because we were actually inside the room with the dolls,” she said, staring down into a the darkness of the cellar. “He was able to draw off of them at close proximity and it made him stronger for a time. I think we should be safe today, but just in case wear this.” Hermione reached into her pocket and withdrew a small silver crucifix.

“I’m not a Christian,” Draco said quietly as he stared at the small pendant dangling from the end of a chain. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” she said as she slipped it over his head. “I was raised Catholic but no longer practice. Demonology and the occult are heavily rooted in Christian mythology. It isn’t about what religion you subscribe to that gives the talisman its power, but what it represents. The crucifix represents rebirth, goodness and faith and that is what will give it the power over the evil.”

“What does demonology have to do with this? You’ve brought it up before,” Draco asked as he fingered the pendant.

“I suspect that Doll was heavily involved in the occult,” she said. “Practicing witchcraft is different, what we practice is what we were born with. It is a part of us, natural, like breathing. Dark magic is something we are taught, something we _learn_, it isn’t something we are born with. Dark magic falls into the category of occult along with Satanism and demon worship. I suspect…I can’t be certain…but I suspect that Doll was calling demons, maybe even Satan himself, to increase his power.”

“But wouldn’t he have to be a Christian? I mean, Satan is a Christian belief….”

“No…every tradition has their boogie man, their representation of the ultimate evil. I use the example of Satan because that was what I was brought up with, but other cultures have their own version. Buddhists believe in Mara the Tempter, Native Americans the Trickster, even ancient Egypt had Ausar or Osiris. Demonologists believe it is essentially the same demon, the king of all demons as it were.”

“Fucking hell, Hermione,” Draco groaned. “It just gets worse and worse! We’ve gone from psycho wizard to king of demons?”

“Would you rather believe it was something simple and go into this unprepared?” she asked.

“I’d rather burn the house to the ground and just re-build it from scratch!” he said throwing his hands up.

“Not before we free the children,” she said as she held her wand up and started into the cellar.

“What the hell, Hermione, you should let me go first!” he snapped, retrieving his wand from his pocket.

“Oh? Why, because you have a penis?” she laughed. “How many times have you dealt with malevolent spirits?”

“Alright, just this one,” he said. “Fine, you go first, but I’m going to be right behind you.” And he was, _right_ behind her. As in his fingers tucked into her back pocket and his semi aroused aforementioned penis bumping up against her backside as she stepped inside. The only break between them came as they descended the stairs and then at the bottom he was once more plastered to the back of her. 

Small gas-lit sconces flared to life, the flames sputtering and crackling as they cast the dank cellar in a dim glow. They were standing in a small rectangular room that looked like any other cellar. Wooden shelves lined the walls laden with bottles, jars and boxes and several barrels and crates lined the packed dirt floor. At the very back of the room between two rows of shelving was a tall, narrow wooden door. 

“We need to go in there,” she said, zeroing in on the door and heading straight towards it.

“Of course we do,” Draco muttered as he followed her. She tugged on the door a few times, dirt and dust shaking free of the frame and raining around them for a moment before it finally opened. They waited as the sconces sputtered to life to light their way.

“Oh, dear god….” Hermione said quietly as the room came to life. It was a large, square room with stone walls and a poured concrete floor. A workbench ran the length of one wall and shelving the other. From hooks attached to a wooden grid on the ceiling dangled tiny, porcelain body parts. Arms, legs, torsos and bald, eye-less heads hung like a macabre mobile above them. 

“I will have more nightmares about this experience than I had of The Dark Lord!” Draco said. His discomfort showed clearly on his face as he looked around the room. 

“What is it with you and dolls?” she asked curiously. “I’ve never seen anyone so creeped out about a toy before.”

“It’s not all dolls, just the creepy porcelain ones with their glassy stares and prefect hair and fancy clothes….they just sit there staring at you,” he said, visibly shuddering. “The ones little girls actually play with are fine, they serve an actual purpose. Having one of them actually pulse in my hand doesn’t endear me to them any more.”

“Do you like children?” She asked as she looked into various containers littering the top of work bench. Tiny glass eyes of various colors filled them and stared back at her.

“Actually, I do. I’d love a house full of them someday,” he said, shaking off his discomfort to explore the room.

“As long as they are sons,” she snorted, taking note of the various tools and paints on the table. She stopped to stare at an antique sewing machine with a manual pedal set up on one end.

“Sure, I’d like a son; every man wants a boy to carry on his name. But I wouldn’t mind a girl or two,” he said. He didn’t see her turn and give him a surprised stare, a slight smile tilting the corner of her mouth up. “Hey, all these boxes over here have names on them.”

Distracted from her admiration of the man he had become, Hermione joined Draco in front of the box lined shelves. Several small boxes stacked three high lined each shelf, each one marked with a different name.

“Alan, Susan, Clifford, Elizabeth, Rosemary…look, Polly,” Hermione said as she pulled the box down and carried it over to the work-bench. An inch or more of dust covered it and formed a small cloud as she lifted the lid to peer inside. The first thing she saw as a pair of small, old fashioned well-worn leather slippers with a hole worn in the sole of one. She lifted them out and set them aside to reveal a worn, soiled dress made of cheap linen with a draw-string neckline and a full tired skirt. A red waist cincher with leather ties lacing the front was resting on top. A small square of material was missing from each piece.

“Fuck me,” Draco said softly, pulling her attention from the garments in her hand. She followed his gaze to the bottom of the container and the black and white magical tin type photograph. 

“Thas’ me.” Hermione and Draco both jumped at the sound of Polly’s voice behind them. “ ‘E took tha’ jus’ ‘efore he killed me, ‘e did.”

The photograph showed her slumped on the floor, her arms stretched above her as if invisible chains held her secured to the wall. She was emaciated, her hair tangled around her face and her body shook as if she were sobbing. As the scene played again and again Hermione felt her stomach begin to roll with nausea.

“ ‘E liked to remember,” Polly said softly.

“This is so…disgusting,” Hermione said, turning the photograph face down on the workbench and recoiling at the sight of Polly’s dark curls and tiny white teeth at the bottom of the box. “I’m so sorry, Polly.”

“Ye plan to set us free, don’ ye?” The shimmering specter asked, a hopeful lilt sounding in her voice. 

“We plan to do our best,” Hermione said as she gently, respectfully, placed the girl’s belongings back into the box. Once upon a time those tattered clothing were probably the only things the child had to her name. “What can you tell us about what happened to you….after?”

“ ‘E liked to tup the bodies after…at least we wasn’t alive fer tha’,” she said, floating across the room to stare at the rows of boxes. “Behin’ here ye will find his ‘special’ place.”

Draco took a look behind the shelving and saw the door. He grabbed the shelves and pulled with all his strength until finally it swung forward with the creaking of rusted hinges. He held out his hand without really thinking about it and felt Hermione tuck hers into it, her slim fingers wrapping tightly around his as they opened the door and waited for the light. 

Inside it was cold and damp with an unpleasant odor that lingered in the air. Immediately upon entering they could feel the weight of lingering emotions bombarding them. Sadness, pain and fear permeated the walls decades later. Inside they found the same stone walls and a concrete floor. The walls were marked with ancient runes and in the center of the room the floor was marked with a pentagram. Several burned out candles and a broken circle of salt indicated that a spell had been performed there. 

“What is that?” Draco asked, inching towards a table on the far side of the room. It was a ceramic table on a metal rack with wheels. An inch deep trench ran along the perimeter of the tabletop which was slanted slightly.

“An old embalmers table,” Hermione said softly. “The table is slanted so that blood and other fluids will drain down to the bottom and into a waiting bucket.” A tall table stood nearby with a cloth covering it. Hermione drew back the cloth and the light glinted off of several macabre looking surgical tools. “This was where he removed the hearts.” 

“I hate this fucking house,” Draco swore, his hands fisting and un-fisting at his sides. 

“It’s not the house, Draco,” Hermione said softly as she recovered the table. “It’s the man who lived here.”

“I don’t think he is a _man_,” Draco replied. “A man doesn’t hurt children.”

“Polly, what can you tell us about the things he did here?” Hermione asked.

“When ‘e was finished wit’ the kids ‘e would take the clothes off an’ wash the body. ‘E was always so gentle wit’ them too. ‘E would cut off the hair and take out the teeth and then ‘e would take out the heart so careful like. Then ‘e would put it in a doll and ‘e would say strange things while ‘e put it together. An’ then ‘e would put it in the room wif the others.”

“He was trapping their souls within the doll,” Hermione said softly. “I had sort of hoped I was wrong.”

“Are you ever wrong?” Draco asked, his tone droll and lacking the normal sarcasm she had come to expect from him. One look at his face showed that he was disgusted and angry. 

“On occasion,” she said softly. She went to the center of the room and knelt down carefully on the edges of the pentagram. Her fingers hovered over the glyphs that had been drawn within the circle but she didn’t touch. “He used blood to draw these.”

“What is it?” Draco asked, staring over her shoulder.

“A summoning spell. A dark one. He was practicing black magic,” she said quietly.

“You don’t _practice_ magic, Hermione. You are either born with it or you aren’t,” Draco frowned. 

“Muggles practice witchcraft, Draco. It’s a religion commonly referred to as Wicca,” she said.

“Of course, leave it to muggles to pervert something natural,” he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a perversion at all. Wicca is a very lovely religion with its roots firmly planted in the worship of nature and all things pure. It is only a very few who pervert the purity of it to practice black magic,” she explained. 

“I don’t understand why this Doll guy would need to practice a muggle religion when he was born a wizard, he already had power.”

“He was using his natural magic to call demons,” she said softly. “Muggles have a very difficult time calling such beings because aside from a select few, most muggles can’t bring themselves to commit the acts required for such a spell.”

“Such as?”

“Rape, murder….sacrifice,” she said quietly. “Doll didn’t seem to have any qualms about fulfilling such rites.” She looked up and saw the frayed ends of a rope dangling from the ceiling. “He made the ultimate sacrifice over this circle,” she said. “He hanged himself here. The aurors retrieved his body from muggle law enforcement. They got here first and because they didn’t know any better they cut the body down and broke the circle. He knew that if the aurors got here first they would reverse the spell….so he made sure that the muggles beat them to it. Their lack of knowledge and belief that magic is all make believe helped him secure his place here and his power over the children.”

“So now what?” he asked, a tingle of dread working its way up his spine.

“Now we go back to the carriage house and come up with a plan to separate him from this house completely and free the children,” she said rising and dusting off her knees.

“This is what happens when you associate with heroes,” Draco groused. “Somehow you end up taking on responsibilities that you didn’t sign up for.” Hermione smiled and brushed her lips against his gently.

“Just remember, Draco, heroes are well rewarded for their efforts,” she said with a raspy tone. 

“How well?” he asked, reaching out to caress the curve of her hip.

“So well that you won’t be able to walk for a week,” she said, nipping at his chin playfully.

“Well then…lead the way, my lady, this Superman is ready to fly,” he said with a swat to her backside as they headed towards the door.

****

***~*~*~*~*~*~**

“They won’t succeed,” Claire said softly as she shimmered into view beside Polly and watched the laughing couple leave. “He won’t let them.”

“They is the firs’ ta try an’ ‘elp us,” Polly said. “She be a tough’n, dat ‘ermione. An ‘e be stronger’n ‘e fink ‘e is. I fink they might do it.”

“I hope so, Polly,” Claire said on a sigh. “I really do.”


	10. Before the Storm

****

**Chapter 10: Before the Storm**

The light of a three quarter moon shone down casting the house in an eerie silver-blue glow. Draco stood just outside the carriage house and stared at the manor house. His house. He wondered how something so beautiful could house such evil. It wasn’t as if it were the first time such thoughts had crossed his mind. He had often pondered the same question in reference to his parents as well as his childhood home. He was beginning to wonder if beauty automatically meant evil. Was beauty all a facade to hide darkness? After all, in his experience it was always those who didn’t fit the definition of beautiful who had the most good in them. Hell, he just had to look at the witch he had spent the last few days with to see that. She wasn’t a traditional beauty by any standard though she wasn’t hard on the eyes either, but she was _good_ through and through. 

He started a bit when the windows came alive with a soft golden glow. The sun was completely set and the house was 'active'. Through the sheers he could see faint shadows and see the drapery flutter as if the wind were lifting the soft material. But he knew it wasn’t the wind, the windows and doors were closed. He felt his stomach lurch with the sickening roll of fear and disgust. Another feeling that he was well acquainted with. Hermione was right. They had to save the children but the thought of going inside that house again gave him chills and made his stomach clench painfully.

"What are you doing?" Draco jumped at the soft sound of Hermione's voice coming from behind him. 

"Thinking," he said quietly. He was a mess of nerves and at that moment he wished that he hadn’t given up smoking.

“About what?” she asked as she moved to stand beside him.

“The house, the children, the past, myself,” he said quietly. “I wonder sometimes if there is something about me that attracts evil. Funny isn’t it? To be evil yet also a coward?” 

Hermione turned her head to stare at him for several long moments. She could see that he was serious and she felt a bit sorry for him. He may have lead a rich and privileged life but it hadn’t been _easy_.

“I don’t think you are evil,” she said truthfully. “Or a coward.”

“Ha!” he scoffed, “You would be the only one in the wizarding world who doesn’t equate the name Malfoy with evil then.”

“You know, when we were in school I would have probably agreed with that,” she said. “You were pretty awful and like most people I associated Slytherin with evil. But then I grew up and began to really look at things from a mature and more objective perspective. I mean, Harry was almost sorted into Slytherin and he isn’t evil and he certainly isn’t a coward.”

”I fail to see how this is supposed to make me feel better.”

“You were put in a position where truly evil things were demanded of you but you didn’t _do_ them despite the threats of what would happen should you fail,” she said. “That’s not something a coward does.”

“So you say, but it doesn’t seem to change the fact that I apparently come from a long line of evil cowards,” he snorted.

“I don’t believe that to be true either. I mean, your father was misguided but he wasn’t evil and he certainly wasn’t a coward. Look at what he did to save you and your mother. Now, I can’t argue that you seem to be a magnet for the dark and sinister, but I don’t believe that _you_ are evil.”

“Thanks…I think,” he said, his mouth tilting up just a little at one corner. 

“It’s just how I see things,” she said returning his smile.

“The world according to Granger?” 

“Something like that,” she chuckled as she turned to look back at the house. “It’s such a beautiful house.”

“I was just thinking that myself,” he said. “Beautiful and evil. Story of my life.”

“Well…like I said, I don’t believe you are evil,” she said.

“But you think I’m beautiful, don’t you?” He smirked as he cast her sidelong glance.

“Well….you’re no Lucius, but you’re not a troll,” she said, fighting back a smile.

“I’m no…wait, you fancy my dad?” he asked incredulously as he turned to face her.

“Well, I mean I don’t particularly like the guy,” she said, slowly inching backwards as Draco began to move towards her with his eyes narrowed. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say he was a first class stud.” She saw his eyes narrow further and nearly burst into laughter right then.

“Stud? You think _my_ father is a stud?” He moved towards her like a predator, a bit surprised at the inkling of jealousy that her teasing stirred up.

“Come on! He’s tall, fit, well dressed and he has this swagger when he walks…and the way he gestures with that cane of his…it makes a girl fantasize about being bent over a glossy mahogany desk and…” she didn’t get a chance to finish before Draco had her pinned to the side of the carriage house.

“You’ve thought this out, eh?” he said roughly as he reached for her. “I don’t think I like the idea of you thinking about my father in such a lascivious manner.” He pulled his wand from his back pocket and pressed it against her hip, the denim easily falling away with a hushed whisper.

“I don’t think I like how easily you seem to have mastered disrobing spells,” she said as she watched her jeans re-appear in a neatly folded square at their feet.

“Funny thing about these spells—“he filled his palms with the pliable flesh of her buttocks and lifted her. Soft, warm thighs wrapped around his waist as he leaned her against the wall. “The person has to be willing to be undressed in order for them to work. So you can’t really protest, Hermione, as you were more than willing to lose the jeans.”

“That’s true,” she smirked as she threaded her fingers into his hair. “Are you going to keep talking or are you going to kiss me?”

“That depends, are you going to be thinking about my father during the kiss?” he asked, squeezing her bottom.

“Well, you do kind of look like him,” she teased as she wriggled in his grasp. He gave one pliant round globe a little pinch and she squealed. “No!” she laughed for a moment and then he watched her face soften and her eyes grow heavy as she touched his cheek and stroked the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need to think of anyone else right now, Draco, all I want is you.”

He took her lips with shocking gentleness. She wasn’t prepared for it and she certainly wasn’t guarded against it. Warmth raced down her spine as she melted against him. She tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him closer so that not even a fraction of an inch separated them. His lips moved slowly, carefully over hers as if he were savoring their kiss as though it would be the last. If things didn’t go well, it could very well be the last. 

“Inside…privacy…” he muttered against her lips. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he blindly hobbled towards the door. The witch wrapped around him wasn’t helping. Instead of loosening her grip she was sliding her hand down the center of his chest to cup the bulge straining against the front of his jeans. “GRRRRRRR….” He growled against her lips and then gave a triumphant shout when his hand banged against the knob. 

He somehow managed to wrestle the door open and ease inside, all while continuing to voraciously kiss the witch clinging to him. As the door swung forward the knob hit him in the center of the back. The pain and surprise caused him to lurch forward, still clutching Hermione tightly against his front. He was conscious enough of the pain it would cause her should he fall with her onto the stairs to bend his legs and fall so that his knees took the brunt of the impact. 

“Smooth move, Malfoy,” she laughed as he leaned her gently on the stairs.

“It’s Draco if you please,” he drawled as he settled her on the second to the bottom step. “And I am, generally, far more smooth and debonair than this,” he said, his smile softening a little as he reached out to stroke her brow lightly. “What is it about _you_ that makes me lose my head?”

“The novelty of bedding a muggleborn I suppose,” she jested, a bit nervous at his shift in tone.

“You aren’t the first,” he said, his brow furrowed. “No, it’s _you_, you’re special.”

“I’m glad you think so, but, Draco,” she said softly as she squeezed his erection through his jeans. “I don’t want to talk…I want you inside me, now.”

He gasped, the need and confusion shining in her eyes floored him for a moment but he understood. The way she was making him feel and think scared the hell out of him too. There was a lot he wanted to say but the thoughts were unorganized and scattered so he pushed them aside and focused on showing her, telling her through actions, how he wanted her. He took her mouth with his, his kiss gentler but no less passionate than before. She whimpered into his mouth while her hands frantically tugged at the fastenings of his trousers. She sank her teeth gently into his bottom lips as she shoved the denim material down his hips to bunch at his thighs.

“Now, take me now,” she said. Her voice was rough, the sound strained and barely a whisper but it resounded in his ears like a shout. He felt her nails bite into the cheeks of his backside as her legs wrapped around his thighs. She pulled him closer and the tip of his erection nudged at the already wet petals of her sex.

“Hermione…” He gasped her name as his shaft slid deep inside her, the heat of sex scalding him. “Ah..God….” he groaned, unable to focus, barely able to breathe as he began a slow rhythm of stroking his cock inside her. She didn’t even try to contain the breathy sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. She went wild against him, her legs tightening and her hips jerking in time with his. _Harder…More….Please, Draco!_ she pleaded over and over again. He braced on hand on the step above her and reached down to grab her ass with the other.

It was out of control, explosive and so fucking incredible that his heart felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest when he came. He continued to thrust through his ejaculation until he finally felt her flutter and flex around him in her own release. She held on tight, unwilling to let go as she trembled in the aftermath, unwilling to let him see the emotions that she knew were shining in her eyes.

He said nothing, just held her close. At least until his knees slipped and the two of them bounced off of the bottom step and into a heap on the floor.

“Oh, Draco, I thought you Malfoys were more suave than this,” Hermione laughed as she stared up at the naked bulb in the ceiling above them. 

“You attacked me, woman,” he groaned as he rose to his knees and refastened his trousers. “Normally I am better at the whole seduction thing,” he muttered as he stood and reached for her hand to help her up. She looked up at him and he watched her throat move as she swallowed and then her lips lift in a soft smile.

“Alright then…take me upstairs and seduce me,” she said. “Show me….”

****

**************

_”You shouldn’t be watching,” Claire said as she faced a wall._

_“Do wut ye wan’ ta, Clairy, bu’ I ain’ sucha lit’el prude as ye,” Polly said, smiling as she watched Draco pick Hermione up and cradle her in his arms. “’esides, I never sawr’ it from dis side afore,” she said softly. _

_“I’m sorry about your life, Polly,” Claira said softly. _

_“It’s gonna be better it is,” she said as she watched him carry her up the stairs and disappear through the door at the top. “Just wait an’ see, Clairy, wait an’ see.”_


	11. The March Into Battle

**CHAPTER 11: The March into Battle**

Draco stood by the small dining table and stared at the supplies so carefully laid out across the shiny wooden surface. Jars and small corked bottles of potions and powder were lined up in neat little rows. Some of them were illegal and had required certain connections to procure. He supposed that she was rejoicing in his family’s seedier side in that moment as she packed the precious, and ridiculously expensive, materials into her satchel. 

“Your servants are incredibly proficient,” she said as she stared into a jar of crushed dogwood blossoms that had been removed from the tree of Iscariot. Or so the demented little creature selling it had claimed. It really didn’t matter if it were true, dogwood was poisonous to demons, it didn’t really matter what tree it came from. 

“They have to be, my father has a low tolerance for servants in general, so you can just imagine what he is like with those who perform poorly. He has _no_ tolerance for failure which is why I am such a disappointment to him,” he said tersely.

“You are not a failure, Draco,” she said softly lifting her head up from her chore to give him a soft smile. “I never thought I would say this, but you are rather….sweet.”

“Sweet? You think me sweet? Oh, how my father would writhe in pain at hearing those words out of _your_ mouth,” he laughed at the mental image. Hermione put the remaining supplies into her bag and closed the flap before walking towards him, a rosary dangling from her fingertips.

“This was blessed by the pope himself, I need you to wear it,” she said as she wrapped it around his wrist a few times. “And I do think you are very sweet, Draco,” she whispered as she kissed the corner of his mouth softly.

“From your lips to father’s ear,” he said lightly, returning her smile.

“I tell you what,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him. “When we finish this, I promise that the next time I see your father I will walk up to him and tell him, in vivid raunchy detail, everything I have done with and to you during this little adventure.”

“Oh, _please_ swear to it, I BEG you to swear that you will,” he said with a grin that she could describe only as sadistically evil.

“I solemnly swear to it,” she said. She sucked in her breath sharply when he hugged her tightly to him for a few moments, his face tucked into the side of her neck. She closed her eyes and reveled in his strength, absorbing the comfort he sought to offer. “Scared?” she asked as he released his hold and looked down at her.

“Shitless,” he replied honestly, his cheeks reddening slightly with embarrassment at his cowardice.

“Me too,” she said honestly. “Your servants have everything in place?”

“Everything is in place,” he said. 

“Just in case…” she paused for a moment to chew on her bottom lip as she stared up at him. “Just in case things don’t go as planned I want you to know that I have truly enjoyed getting to know you again…and I will always remember the time spent in your arms fondly.” He touched her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers and swallowed hard.

“Me too,” he said hoarsely. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that last night would be the last he would spend with the witch but knew that when everything was over, if they survived, that she may not want to have anything more to do with him.

“Alright, then,” she said, taking a deep breath as she stepped away from him. “The sooner we start the sooner we finish and sooner the children can rest in peace.” She said with a tight smile. “And the sooner you can have your house to yourself.”

“No, I am going to sell it once it’s safe to do so,” he said. “I don’t want to live here, not after all this, let’s just get it over with.”

*************************

Draco hated being back inside the house. He was freezing yet his pale skin was flushed and coated in sweat. He was watching Hermione as she knelt in the center of Doll's chamber of torture, tracing over the original pentagram with pure, blessed salts. She was chanting softly as she placed offerings around the circle; Blessed soil at the north, a white candle to the south, a butterfly in a cage to the east and ocean water to the west.

She prayed to the goddess for protection, for success and for aide in guiding the children's spirits home. Spell after spell slipped past her lips as she took every safety precaution imaginable. He stood near the door, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, ready for whatever was to come and praying that he didn't falter, that his modicum of courage would hold out and he could see it through. And though he was loathed to admit it, he didnt want to fail her. 

"Are you ready?" she asked over his shoulder.

"As ready as I am going to get," he replied hoarsely. She nodded and reached into her satchel for a small, snow white dove. 

"Hail to the guardians of the North, keepers of mother earth, I invoke thee," she chanted with a loud, firm voice as she ran her fingers through the soil. "Hail to the guardians of the South, keepers of fire, I invoke thee." she lit the candle. "Hail to the guardians of the East, keepers of the wind, I invoke thee." She lifted the stasis spell on the butterfly and sent it fluttering inside its cage. "Hail to the guardians of the West, keepers of the waters, I invoke thee." She dipped her finger into the water and circled the edge of the bowl containing it. "Hail to the goddess, to the high preistess of all the earth, to the keeper of the craft, to the mother of us all, I invoke thee." She cringed as she raised the thin silver dagger and plunged it into the snowy breast of the dove and watched as the crimson stain bloomed across the feathers before laying it in the center of the star in sacrifice.

"I call upon the spirit of Maxwell Doll, heed my call and present yourself before your accusers!" she demanded. The house trembled briefly and then nothing. "I call upon the spirit of Maxell Doll, heed my call and present yourself before your accusers! In the name of the Goddess I invoke thee!" she shouted firmly. The house shook again, this time with force as the air arround them crackled with energy. The air above the circle began to shimmer, waves of energy visible as if one were looking at the air above an extremely hot surface. Slowly a shape began to form until finally the silvery image of Maxwell Doll appeared.

“Bitch!” The voice that spilled from the specter was dark and menacing. “How dare you invade my home.”

“Not _your_ home,” she said, “Draco’s home now.”

“It’s MY home, MY land, MY children!” Doll snarled, his image finally clear as he hovered over the circle. He began to laugh, a dark, sinister sound that sent cold chills racing down her spine. “You’re a little older than I like them, a bit too ripe…but if you’re keen on joining my flock I am more than happy to oblige you.” Draco lunged forward, his wand drawn but stopped when Hermione held up her hand.

“No, Draco!” she said firmly. “He’s baiting you, he wants your anger and he wants my fear…it feeds him.” 

“Oh come now, Princess, let your boyfriend play,” Doll chuckled as he flicked his tongue vulgarly at Hermione. 

“Why do you hold them here?” she asked. “Why do you remain here?”

“Because they’re mine,” he said with an evil smirk. “I need them.”

“You feed off of their souls, off of the purity of their life-force, what I don’t understand is what you get out of it…you are trapped here, unable to do anything,” she stated, watching him carefully.

“I was close,” he said, sneering and clenching his fists. “So close to achieving ultimate power, eternal bliss…but the bloody muggle police and aurors turned out to be more clever than I gave them credit for…they came for me before I could finish the rite and that last one…she held out, she fought harder than the others. I thought for certain she would be dead before me but I misjudged her will to live. I died without the last soul to complete the deal.”

“You weren’t collecting souls to power your evil,” Hermione said softly as the truth unraveled. “You were collecting them as payment for immortality….you were making a deal with the devil…you wanted to become a demon.”

“What the fuck? Granger, what in the hell are you getting at? You said there is no devil….”

“AHAHAHHAHAHAHA…..oh you stupid boy….nothing much between those pretty ears of yours is there,” Doll snapped. “Of course there is a devil…the dark one…the king of demons. More powerful than any god you might dare to call upon!” 

“Hermione?” Draco called her name through clenched teeth, his wand still trained on Doll.

“It’s alright, Draco,” she said. She turned her attention back to Doll. “Why did you torture them? Why did you hurt them? Why didn’t you just kill them and harvest their souls?”

“Now where is the fun in that?” he asked with a grin. “I had to have my fun.”

“Sick bastard!” Draco spat, bile rising in his throat.

“Oh come now, Blondie…I know you’ve been riding that ripe little cow like a thoroughbred,” Doll snarled. “I could hear her screaming.” His lips twisted into a horrid mockery of a smile and he licked his lips. “You should have killed her. There’s nothing like plowing into a tight young snatch while the last pulses of life are firing through her.”

“You vile, disgusting piece of shite!” Draco wished he were solid, he wanted to kill him. He didn’t even want to use magic. He wanted to twist his neck with his bare hands, to pummel him until his skull cracked beneath his fists.

“Let them go,” Hermione demanded. “Release the children, Doll.”

“Ah…well, you see, I can’t do that. I need them. I need their energy so that I can collect the final soul.” He glanced over her head at Draco, “or two…yours will do nicely, and you owe me one Blondie. You’ll make such pretty additions to my doll collection.”

“Why the dolls?” she demanded. A smirk was her only reply. “Release them, Doll, I won’t ask again,” she said.

“No,” he snapped.

“Alright then,” Hermione said softly as she reached into her satchel and withdrew a length of thick black ribbon. 

“What are you doing?” Doll’s eyes narrowed as he watched her pick up the dove. 

“By the powers of three times three I bind you, Maxwell Doll, to this purified circle,” she chanted as she wrapped the bird with the ribbon.

“NO!” Doll’s shout shook the walls.

“By the powers of three times three I bind you, Maxwell Doll, to this purified circle,” she said again, continuing to wrap the ribbon around the bird. Fierce wind began to circle through the room, lifting her hair and whipping it into her eyes. The house shook, goods were being rattled from the shelves. Boxes spilling, jars shattering and littering the floor, some coming dangerously close to contaminating her circle. 

“By the powers of three times three I bind you, Maxwell Doll, to this purified circle,” she said once more as she would the remaining slack around the dove. “As I will, so mote it be!”

“I will kill you!!!” Doll growled. It felt like an earthquake was rocking the house. Cracks began to form and climb up the wall, the foundation of the house breaking apart. 

“Draco!” she shouted his name over the roaring of the wind rushing around them and the rumble and chaos of the house shaking apart. “The dolls…you must destroy the dolls!”

“Come with me!” 

“I can’t! I have to hold the circle! If you destroy them you will set them free!”

“I can’t leave you here!” He was panicked as he looked between her and the spirit now writhing in the center of her circle.

“Don’t worry about me! Draco, please…you must do as I ask! Destroy the dolls and hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can protect the sanctity of the circle!” she cried, watching as more and more rubble threatened the perimeter.

“Hermione…”

“GO!” she cried. 

He looked from her to Doll, everything in him resisted the idea of leaving her alone but he knew that she was right, knew that he had to do it. “FUCK!” he growled as he turned and ran through the cellar. The ground shook beneath his feet and threw him against the wall. As he raced up the stairs they rocked and swayed beneath him. His feet slid on the wet grass, sending him to his knees as he ran across the lawn towards the door leading into the main part of the house. 

He drew his wand and blasted threw the door, shards of splintered wood and glass flying everywhere as he barreled through. Screams reverberated off of the walls, the shrill screams of children in pain. The house shook, floorboards cracking and buckling, dishes, décor and various debris circled through the air as the walls began to crack, thick red fluid began to ooze through the cracks and drip from the ceiling. He raced through the rooms and up the stairs, the wind nearly blowing him off his feet. They were gale force as he struggled to walk down the hall, forcing his way towards the little room at the end.

It was like trying to walk through something thick, nearly solid. His muscles ached and burned as he continued to press forward. When he finally reached the door the brass knob burned his hand but he twisted anyhow, ignoring the pain as he forced his way into the room. The door slammed behind him and the temperature in the room began to rise, quickly turning the cramped space into a sauna. 

“Fucking pervert!” he screamed as lunged for the first wall of dolls. He threw them forcefully on the ground, two and three at a time, with enough force to ensure that they shattered into tiny pieces. Rainbows of light arched into the air, swirling up into a bright and colorful vortex at the ceiling. “Bastard!” he screamed, moving quickly through the room, doll after doll crashing to the floor until the entire room was littered with a sea of broken porcelain and tattered cloth. 

He pointed his wand at the window and the glass and wooden shutters bowed outwards before exploding, taking out the entire outside wall of the room. 

“GO! You’re free!” he shouted above the chaos swirling around him. The mass of colors converged into a thick stream that swirled downward and passed straight through him as it funneled out and then upwards towards the clouds. He was overcome by feelings of gratitude, relief, peace and joy. 

“Oi!” Draco looked over to see Polly hovering near the door.

“Go, Polly, you’re free now,” he shouted over the roar of the wind. 

“Thank you,” she sad softly. “Save ‘er.” With that she faded into a mass of iridescent color and joined the others.

“Hermione…..”


	12. Rescue

****

**Chapter 12: Rescue**

It felt as if the house were alive, a breathing, feeling, trembling, massive living being. As Draco stepped into the hall, the chaos continued but the power of the winds hand lessened. Doll was weakening; his power was draining with the release of the children. Draco could think of nothing but getting to Hermione as quickly as possible. He tried to disapparate but managed only to feel an electrical shock run through him on the attempt.

“Fucking wards!” he snarled. He had hoped that by weakening Doll the wards would have faltered. He ran, his momentum causing him to slide around corners as he raced down the stairs. He was forced to take a running leap over the gaping hole in the floor of the dining room on his way out. He skidded once more on the grass, clawing his way back up as he nearly fell down the stairs into the cellar. He leapt over the debris littering the floor of the storage room and workshop, his shoes ruined by whatever it was that bled through the walls to pool into noxious puddles on the ground. 

The door to the ‘death room’ had closed and sealed tightly. He used all of his strength to try and open it but it wouldn’t budge an inch. So he pulled his wand. He knew that using his magic would feed the entity but he didn’t care, he needed to get through the barrier that kept him from his witch as quickly as possible. He called on his magic, pulling from deep within as he cast the spell forcing a stream of concentrated red light at the door until it literally fell into a pile of ash on the floor.

His heart leapt into his throat when he saw her, suspended above the circle, ghostly hands wrapped around her throat. Doll was fading, using the last of his strength to choke the life out of the witch who dared to destroy him. Draco didn’t know where the rage inside him came from. He knew only that he suddenly felt out of control, as if he were about to lose everything that mattered to him. He had felt that way only once before, back when he was a kid and The Dark Lord had ordered him to kill Dumbledore.

“Drop her!”

“The cunt is mine!” Doll snarled, his image wavering.

“I said DROP HER!” For the first time in his life he was glad to have the father he had. Glad for all of the hatred and anger, the darkness that Lucius had nurtured inside him for so many years. He was glad to have been privy to lessons in the dark arts. He braced himself, grit his teeth and called on the darkness inside him, on the strong, powerful magic of a wizard with generations of undiluted wizardry running through his veins—and he released it. He uttered no spell, used no incantation, he simply aimed his wand and let the energy go to do as it would.

He prayed that it wouldn’t feed Doll. As soon as the blast of energy breached the circle Doll dropped her, startled by the attack. Hermione fell to the ground, crumpled into a heap like a rag doll. She wasn’t moving and Draco feared he had been too late. He lunged for her, grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the circle. The house began to groan and creak ominously; the sounds of boards snapping and glass shattering were coming from above.

“Too late…this house will be your grave as it has for so many others,” Doll laughed hysterically. Draco knelt and pulled Hermione into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Doll,” Draco spat on the floor and didn’t look back as he carried Hermione quickly from the room, the ceiling crashing in behind him as he ran towards the stairs, barely clearing them before everything came raining down into a giant, yawning pit. The earth shook beneath his feet as he marched forward with his burden, the sound of an anguished roar echoing behind them. He heard and felt the rumble beneath his feet and then a wave of energy slammed into him from behind, knocking him down and causing him to drop Hermione on the ground.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the blazing inferno that had, for a short time, been his home. He should have been angry, livid in fact but all he could manage to feel was relief. He turned to the woman lying limp on the grass and immediately went into panicked mode. 

“Hermione!” he crawled to her and shook her, calling her name again and again as he slapped her cheeks lightly. He could see the skin on her neck already bruising and prayed that Doll hadn’t crushed her windpipe. “Hermione, please!” 

He heard the sounds of apparation and looked up to see aurors appearing all around them but he could have cared less. He got to his knees and pulled her into his arms; shaking her less than gently as he continued to scream at her.

“Damn you, Granger, wake the hell up!” Her eyelids fluttered and then slowly lifted to reveal eyes that were streaked with red. 

“Hermione you jerk,” she rasped her voice scratchy and painful sounding.

“Bloody hell woman,” he sighed in relief as he clutched her to his chest, rocking back and forth as he held her close. “You scared the life out of me!”

“Did we win?” she asked hoarsely.

“Yeah, we won, Love,” he said, brushing a light kiss against her brow. “You were bloody brilliant.”

“You were very brave, Draco,” she said softly. “I told you that you weren’t a coward.”

“I hate to interrupt, but we got a report that dark magic was being used, lots of it,” an auror interrupted. “What is going on here?”

“My house burned down, what does it look like?” Draco asked.

“Malfoy? What in the hell….Hermione?” Harry Potter stepped between the two aurors hovering over them. 

“Hey, Harry,” she said weakly.

“Merlin, Mione, are you alright? We need to get you some help,” he said gesturing behind him to some of the others.

“No…I’ll be fine,” she protested. She looked up at Draco and smiled softly. “I’m tired.”

“Alright, Love, I’ll take you to the most posh hotel in England for a long weekend,” Draco said as he lifted her into his arms and stood.

“Now wait a minute, I need someone to tell me what in the hell is going on here…and just what are you planning to do with her, Malfoy?” Harry watched as Hermione twined her arms around Draco’s neck and cuddled against him and he was rendered speechless. 

“Not now, Potter,” Draco said as he shifted her in his arms. “She’s exhausted. I promise you that no harm will come to her, I’ll take care of her, I promise. Just let her rest and I will bring her to your office on Monday. It’s my house after all, my property.”

“Why should I believe you? You hate her,” Harry said. Didn’t he? He was holding her close, cradling in her arms as if she were something precious. Had he missed something? 

“People change, Potter, feelings change,” he said. 

“I expect you to be there by 10am, Malfoy,” Harry said tightly. He held out his card then when he recalled that Draco’s hands were full he tucked it into Hermione’s pocket. “Contact me if you need anything.”

“We’ll be just fine, Potter,” he said. With a nod from Harry he vanished with his burden, away from the aftermath, away from the evil, away from the Doll House.

****

*************

“My eyes hurt,” Hermione whined. “And my throat hurts.”

“The potions will work soon,” Draco said as he carried a tray of food to the large, plush bed in the luxury suite of a posh hotel. He climbed up beside her and passed her a cup of tea. He had brought her to the room and bathed her gently in a tub filled with healing tinctures and soothing bath salts. He washed her hair, rinsing away the dirt and soot. He bundled her into a plush terry robe and put her into the bed while he called for a healer. Once he was assured of her health and armed with healing potions he set about feeding her and convincing her to rest. 

“It feels so good to have it over, to know that the children are safe,” she said over her cup.

“It did NOT feel good to walk in and see you being choked out by an evil spirit,” Draco said. 

“I’m sorry, something began oozing from the ceiling and broke a section of my circle…he was able to grab me,” she said, her voice still a bit hoarse and scratchy but less painful. “I didn’t mean for you to worry or to be frightened…I didn’t expect you to care.”

“I didn’t expect to care myself,” he said with a confused smile. “We find ourselves in an odd situation here, Hermione. Our business is concluded but I find myself reluctant to just walk away.” She placed her cup back on the tray and leaned against him, curling up against his side as he reclined back against the pillows.

“So don’t,” she said softly. She didn’t know if they stood a chance at a future, if their passion was just a result of the situation, but she owed it to herself to give it a chance. 

After all, you never know what adventures might lay ahead………


	13. Epilogue

****

**EPILOGUE**

Hermione stood in front of the large marble memorial statue and smiled. It was a beautifully carved sculpture of children playing with the names of each of Dolls victims carefully etched into the base. The story of the Doll House once again made the headlines, this time however it was not only about the missing children and the mad man who took them, but about how their souls were saved by a familiar Heroine and an unexpected hero.

She looked over her shoulder at the handsome wizard standing just outside of the white tent housing the dedication gala of the Malfoy Center for the Arts and Botanical Gardens. The land that once housed evil would now be used for beauty and the benefit of talented youth. And would stand as a memorial to the children who suffered in life and in death for so long. 

He walked towards her, his lazy swagger causing her breath to hitch slightly as he drew near. She was crazy about him and even more surprising, he was crazy about her. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.

“What do you think, Love?” he asked softly.

“I think that your father is going to have a coronary if you keep flaunting our relationship,” she laughed, staring at the striking blond wizard watching them so intently. “I told you we should have stayed in hiding.”

“We were hidden for too long as it is,” he said. “The old man will get over it. Speaking of which…you made me a promise regarding my father, if you recall.”

“Oh, come on,” she snorted incredulously. 

“Chicken?” he asked, his brow arched high. He watched her eyes narrow, and then she turned to face him. 

“Fine,” she said, taking out her wand and pointing it at her dress. The straps tightened and her breasts visibly plumped and lifted to form the most delightful cleavage. 

“Damn…I want you to use that spell later,” he muttered. She smiled, winked and licked her lips before she turned on her heel and sauntered towards his father. He watched with wicked delight as his father openly gawked at Hermione, his eyes drawn to the lush curves of her body. Hermione stepped close to Lucius, lifted onto her toes to speak softly to the wizard. Draco’s smile was sinister at best as he watched his father’s face flush and his eyes widen. “Damn me if I don’t love that wild little witch.”

_What Lucius heard….._

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, amused by his fascinated perusal of her breasts. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“My son has done well with tonight’s event,” he said in his haughty manner. 

“Mmmmhmmm…well, you see, Mr. Malfoy,” she said seductively as she moved forward and onto her toes so that barely and inch separated them. “Your son is quite skilled in many ways. In fact, while we were here investigating this property was when we became…close,” she laid her hand against his lapel for balance and blew lightly against his ear. “It was soooo good, too. My god he can just go for hours…the shower, the bed, the kitchen counter , the stairs….that was my favorite, you see it started out with me telling him how sexy I found _you_ and ended up with me screaming his name as I came over and over all night long.” She stepped back, licked her lips and smiled seductively at the elder Malfoy as she took a small sip from his glass of wine. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Malfoy.” 

She was smiling as she strolled back to Draco, her hips swinging exaggeratedly because she knew that Lucius couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Not that she cared; she cared only for the man who was now smiling at her in sadistic glee.

“Happy now?” she asked.

“Never doubt it,” he grinned, pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly.

“Pardon me; are you Hermione Granger of HG Investigations?” Hermione pulled away from Draco to stare at the small, portly man who had interrupted them.

“I am, who are you?”

“I’m Denzel Molloway…I…I own Molloway Mortuary in Godric’s Hollow….I…I was wondering if you might be interested in looking over my case,” he said, producing a large file folder bulging with papers. 

“I’m a little busy at the moment, but if you would like to come by my office tomorrow Id be happy to have a look,” she said politely. 

“Oh…well, perhaps you might have an easier time deciding if you came to _my_ office, you see that is where the photos are,” he said.

“Photos?”

“Yes…you see, my problems began when I found trunks filled with Victorian post mortems…..”

Draco saw the way her eyes lit up with intrigue and he shook his head, “We will be there first thing tomorrow, Mr. Molloway.”

“_We_?” she queried with an arched brow. 

“Absolutely, did you think I was going to let you have all the fun without me?” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. “Wherever you go, I go too.”

“Just remember who is running the show,” she said.

“Of course, besides, I love to follow you…it’s my favorite view,” he kissed her lips, enjoying the feel of her laughter vibrating against his lips. Life was never dull with her and he couldn’t wait for the next adventure to begin….


End file.
